Regenesis
by This Rhythm
Summary: Post TDKR. Selina decides to rid Gotham of its most notorious criminals not because she's bored, but due to the fact she has a debt to pay. To Bruce. And if she can do this, then maybe - just maybe - she might be able to forgive herself for what she did to him. Bat/Cat, Blake included.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Yep, got a new one for ya'll. And guess what? IT'S NOT A ONE SHOT! LO AND BEHOLD, MY FIRST MULTI-CHAPTER BAT/CAT. BOW CHIKA WOW WOW! That being said... Don't expect a quick update anytime soon. I'm really sorry. This semester is absolutely killing me. :( Wish me luck, darlings!**

**This story takes place right after Batman "sacrifices" himself.**

**Pardon me for any mistakes. As usual, reviews are always appreciated.**

* * *

**PART 1**

She runs forward, jumps on top of the all the rubble, nearly falling down a couple of times. Gordon calls out for her, saying something along the lines of "It's not worth it" but she doesn't listen. Climbing out of the underground tunnel, Selina continues running forward, the cold air smacking her face left and right. The wind goes through her lungs and something is filling inside her chest. She can't breathe. And to her horror, she realizes it's regret she's feeling.

A boom. A large, wondrous boom.

The mushroom cloud eventually covers the entire horizon, and for once the city is silent as they thank the man who saved their worthless asses over and over again. Selina pretends she can feel the blast, but the only explosion she can feel is the one in her heart.

* * *

The night slowly moves forward, enveloping Gotham with its silence and sadness. She can smell some of the chemicals, not because Selina's in the middle of downtown, but because she's standing next to the shore. The water gently licks the sand while Selina waits. The moon is barely visible but the Cloud can still be seen, as well as the symbol Batman set on fire.

Trembling, Selina wraps her arms around herself to stifle the cold. Her night-vision goggles are proving useless, however, since she can't spot Bruce anywhere. It's a waste of time to hope. Bruce was most likely incinerated from the blast, dying a quick and painless death. Time passes much faster than she wants, and when her watch reads eleven at night, Selina drops her head and whispers, "I'm sorry I disappointed you."

She walks back and sits on the Batpod and before she realizes it, it's been an hour since she sat down on the bike. Selina laughs a little, surprised at herself for A) sticking around and B) hoping for Bruce to turn up. She never allowed herself to hope, but she thinks maybe it's time to start.

And what a time this is.

* * *

The Batpod is safely tucked back in Wayne's abandoned warehouse. Once Selina gets out of the garage, she stands right in front of the door, vividly recalling each mouth tick, nod, and the way Bruce stood a mere hours ago. When he was alive.

Everything she's feeling right now – guilt, regret, so fucking sorry, hopeless – are contributing to her ragged breathing and watery eyes. Selina didn't love him. How could she? They barely knew each other. But from what she had gathered and seen, Bruce was the best human being anyone could ask for. In time, perhaps, Selina would have grown to love him.

See, that's the worst part right there. With Bruce dead, what will happen? What would've happened? Selina will never know the answer, and she's not sure if she can accept it. She wanted to say sorry and she threw the chance away. Selina cared for Bruce. She didn't care for the men she stole from, obviously. They were assholes. Bruce, though? Nah, Bruce trusted her till the end. He gave her a second chance. And there isn't any other way she can repay him, not even with a small pat on the shoulder. She's forever in his debt, just like the rest of Gotham.

She will always be indebted to him.

* * *

There aren't many people out in the streets now. It's still unsafe here, with criminals prowling the streets even though they know their fight is futile. Lights are off for tonight, minus one or two random street lamps. She walks aimlessly, not wanting to go back to her pathetic home. By now Selina would have gotten rid of her suit, but oddly enough, it provides her protection. She may not be Batman but she is someone. Her costume and walk screams _Don't fuck with me_. _I'm dangerous._

She turns a sharp left and hears some movement from down the block. The voices are young and definitely belong to boys. Selina saunters forward, only to find an abandoned electronics store being looted once more. The windows have long been broken and basically everything is wiped clean. The boys are carrying flashlights, and their carelessness irks her. They're so stupid for bringing flashlights. A proper thief knows not to bring any attention upon themself.

Selina shakes her head and silently tiptoes inside the store. The boys are whispering loudly. Apparently, one of the boys can't find what he's looking for. His friend, a tall blonde, is visibly annoyed and throws his hands in the air. "Dude, you're wasting time! We're gonna get caught, even if the police are too busy cleaning up all this shit."

"Shut the hell up, man. Keep your voice down," the empty-handed boy whispers vehemently. "I'm not leaving until we get it."

"Why did you pick this day out of all the rest? You had five months to steal it, you idiot," the blonde replies angrily. He looks around the room and Selina quickly ducks behind a shelf. She stays still for a good ten seconds before taking a peep through the cracks. "I don't even want anything from here. Come on, it's getting late and we should –"

"Sweet! I found it!" The curly haired kid smiles widely and shows the box to his friend. "I told you it would still be here!" He swipes the dirt from it and grins. "This is what I call a win-win situation."

The blonde rolls his eyes. "Let's get out of here."

"Go outside and check if anyone's out there," his friend orders. The blonde kid leaves, and Selina is alone with the thief.

She emerges from the shadows and playfully asks, "Your friend brought up a good point: why _did_ you pick this day out of all the rest?"

The kid yelps and falls backwards. His eyes go wide in fear. "Please, I never meant to do anything –"

Selina rolls her eyes and walks over to him. She glances at the box and sees that it's an Xbox 360, complete with a controller. "Really. You could've picked anything from this city, and instead you chose this?" To prove her point, she kicks the box away from him. "Hmm . . . Whatever I shall do with you?"

He stands up, his entire body shaking. "Please miss, I haven't stolen anything until now, my other friend stole a bunch of other shit, I can tell you every single thing he took –"

"Save it."

"– And this? Pfft, I don't want it. It's not even for me, it's for my baby bro. His birthday is tomorrow. We've been stuck in our house and my mama doesn't want anyone to go outside and shit –"

At the mention of his younger brother, Selina softens. "Oh, fine." She walks forward and picks up the box. He swallows thickly, but quickly relaxes when she hands the box to him. "I'll let you off the hook this time. I don't want to see you stealing anything ever again, you hear me?" He nods so much Selina thinks he'll crack his neck. "Go before I change my mind."

The kid runs out of there so fast he might just have a heart attack. For a small second, she feels proud of herself. Proud that she gave a kid another chance, exactly like Bruce did.

Smiling, Selina knows she will never be as pious as Bruce, but at least she can be in small little ways.

* * *

It's three in the morning and Selina slowly trudges up the stairs. She can hear faint cheering from upstairs; her neighbors are most likely partying. Jen can't be seen anywhere and for that she's grateful. Selina doesn't need her whiny voice and overprotective arms around her right now. She needs her peace and quiet.

Her apartment is cold. Chilly, in fact. She takes off her night goggles and sighs; she's terribly tired. Selina shivers again and swiftly wraps a blanket around her. Walking over to her dresser, she takes out some matches and proceeds to light a candle. She's gathered a several candles over the past few months, since the electricity would go out every few hours or so. She lights one up and then another.

"Don't light up any more."

Selina nearly screams in fear and shock. Pointy ears come forward and soon enough, Bruce's entire body is right in front of her. He's . . . alive. He's alive and standing right in front of her. She's so relieved and so confused. She saw it. She saw him die. The entire city – probably the entire world – witnessed his death. "You're not real."

It's so incredibly dark in her apartment, but for safety's sake she can't light any more candles. "Selina, if I wasn't real then I wouldn't be here," he groans out. Bruce clutches his stomach and sags against the wall, his suit scraping against the paint. "I need . . . I need you to clean my wo . . . my wound," he breathes out.

Anxiety grips her, as well as fear, and in a moment's notice she's by Bruce's side, helping him to her bed. Her heels and his boots are creating so much noise, and he's way too heavy. Thankfully her apartment is small (unlike his flashy Wayne Manor), so in a matter of seconds he's lying down on her bed. His cape has been severely damaged, and there are scratches all over his suit. Bruce breathes harshly and bites his lower lip. "Selina, please help me."

Her heart breaks. It really fucking does. He trusts her so, so much. And she knows she will never be good enough for him. Selina remembers her vow from a few hours ago, and slowly nods. "We need to remove your suit first."

Bruce grunts and takes his hand away from his stab wound. She can't see clearly, so Selina picks up one of the burning candles and brings it over to her nightstand. Bruce has already detached his mask, and Selina sees a bunch of other scratches on his face as well. A few are dried up, but there's a semi-deep gash on the side of his face. The sweat isn't making any of it better.

The suit is complicated. She has to remove the latches for his cape before getting rid of his black torso; Bruce can barely sit up to help her. She trudges on, basically lifting him up from sitting position, desperate to get him to safety. She can't risk losing Bruce again. His eyes flutter constantly. At one point, he closes his eyes for a very long time. Selina gently slaps him on the cheek, her heart racing. "Keep your eyes open, sweetie." He clears his throat and tries to follow her directions.

Thankfully, the front and back of his suit detach separately. Slowly, Selina removes the top part and zeros in on the stab. It's still bleeding, but it's more gooey than it is liquid-y. She can tell the knife went very deep, and doesn't know if she can fix it here. Bruce's breathing slows down considerably, but his skin is burning up. His chest is covered in bruises, mostly due to the impact. She slaps him again and urgently says, "Right now isn't a good time to nap."

"I . . ."

Selina quickly gets up and retrieves her first-aid kit, complete with gauze and morphine syringes. Only two candles are lit, and in order to view the morphine syringe she needs to have more light. Instead of lighting another one, she digs around for a flashlight and turns it on. Still in her heels, Selina walks over to Bruce and assess his wound. The only thing she can do is clean it up. He needs a proper doctor, and he's in way too much pain.

Tightening her jaw, Selina finally says, "I'm going to clean the big one as fast as I can, but I'm not sure if my stitching is going to help. I'll try my best." Selina won't stitch it up anytime soon, because Bruce needs antibiotics and a real doctor to take care of him. For the time being she'll have to lie.

"OK."

She wipes the blood away and promptly covers the wound with thick gauze. Then, she takes out some tape and wraps it around Bruce's body. Her face is pressed against his chest, trying to bring the tape around his back, the sweat rubbing against her face. Selina knows his consciousness is slipping at a rapid rate, but she needs to take care of his face wounds before sending him to the doctors. With or without his permission.

All she has to do is clean it up and put a couple of Band-Aids on his forehead. Once she's done she asks, "Where else are you hurt?"

It takes Bruce a moment to answer. "No . . . Nowhere in particular."

She rolls her eyes. Selina can't help it. "I mean, is there any place that's bleeding? Do you feel pain elsewhere?" He shakes his head. "Alright." She takes a deep breath and takes out the syringe.

Bruce begins to protest. "What are you doing?"

"Relax," Selina drawls. "It's only morphine. I'll . . . clean everything up after."

He calms down a bit and lets her stick the needle in his arm. Almost immediately, his entire body sags in relief. For a small second Selina feels relief also, but instantly starts taking off the rest of his suit. She needs him slightly awake in order to remove his suit. She yanks his gloves off and proceeds to work on his pants. Bruce is drifting off, and Selina ends up letting him. She can't let him know where they're going in a few minutes.

She unlatches the belt and works on taking off his heavy armored pants. Selina figures out she has to take his boots off first (talk about a nuisance), so she takes both of his shoes off in rapid succession. She's back to getting rid of his now cropped pants, and when she does, Selina finds herself staring at a completely nude Bruce Wayne. Selina's slightly taken aback because in her teenage years, she used to fantasize about Bruce and what he looked like. Much to her relief, his eyes are closed. Shaking her head, Selina runs to her dresser and pulls out the baggiest form of shorts/pants she can find and slips it on Bruce. They're kind of tight on him but they'll do.

Checking his pulse, Selina finds it dangerously low and begins to panic. She rummages around for something – anything – to cover his face, and finally settles on a ski mask. The mask is a little too extreme, and surely the doctors will want to get a good peek at who's underneath. Selina decides to cut the bottom half of the mask; that way, it'll be easier for the doctors to put an oxygen mask (if need be), and hopefully thwart pesky nurses.

There isn't a single shirt which can fit over Bruce's manly body. Selina gives up and thinks a blanket will do. Time is ticking; Bruce is basically unconscious. The morphine is most likely giving him too much relief, and they need to get out of here without anyone noticing.

The clock reads four in the morning. Surely the hospital will be busy because of the all-out war Gotham had earlier, so getting Bruce the care he needs might not be so hard after all. The only thing Selina has to do is make sure no one removes Bruce's mask. Which may or may not be a very hard task.

The only mode of transportation Selina had was the Batpod, so the only conclusion she can come up with is stealing a car. Still in her catsuit, Selina puts on her night-vision goggles, gets her car stealing kit, and wraps a couple of blankets over Bruce before she exists through the fire escape. She can't bear to leave him all by himself. Much to her surprise, a car is waiting outside for her. With stealthy hands, Selina cracks the door open and turns on the car, using the wires to start it up. It's super cold outside; she cranks up the heat and hopes it'll be ready by the time she and Bruce come downstairs.

Selina climbs back up through the fire escape and rushes over to Bruce. He's even hotter than he was a few minutes ago. Selina begins to panic all over again, and worries how she'll get him to the hospital. Bruce seems to still be alert, but Selina slaps his warm cheeks for the third time and pleads, "I _need_ you awake, alright? We're going downstairs and leaving my apartment."

His head rolls to the side and he groggily asks, "Why?"

"Never you mind. I can carry most of your weight, but I need your help with this. Can you stand?"

It's a silly question because of course Bruce can't stand. But being the gallant knight he is, Bruce nods a yes and attempts to get up. He fails miserably. "Here, hook your arms around my neck." He does so, and Selina locks her arms underneath his armpits, lifting Bruce up from the bed. God, he's so heavy. Selina tries to multitask and put the blanket over his shoulders.

Much to her dismay, she realizes Bruce doesn't have any shoes to wear. He certainly can't wear her heels. But, much to delight, her black slippers are right next to the bed. They're warm and fluffy. She kicks them near Bruce's feet and orders him to wear them. His entire upper body is sagging heavily on Selina, and he can't even lift his legs up. Crouching down, Selina lifts Bruce's legs up and gently helps him put on the slippers.

She stands back up and takes the ski mask. "Wear this. It'll help protect you from the cold," she lies. Bruce gingerly puts it on, and groans loudly when he lifts his right arm. He must be in worse pain than she thought. Perhaps the morphine wasn't enough. Selina sighs impatiently and pulls it down for him. Covering the blanket around Bruce even tighter, she tells him, "If anyone comes along, don't speak. I'll take care of it." He hums his acknowledgement, his eyelids closing and opening at a slow pace.

There's no way in hell they can leave through the fire escape. It's ten past four, so hopefully most people are sleeping. Selina quietly opens her front door and pushes Bruce along. To his credit he stifles any sound he can, but as his condition deteriorates, his feet drag on the floor and he repeatedly falls to the side. Selina's sweating through her suit, her hands slick beneath her leather gloves. "We're almost there," she huffs out. Just one more set of stairs and they're out.

Bruce can barely walk. He can barely breathe. This is much worse than she thought, and if he dies or something because she failed to stitch him up . . . She'll never forgive herself. Finally, the reach the main door and Selina kicks it open, and immediately snow starts creeping in.

Bruce lets out a loud breath, and his breathing sounds way too wheezy. "Look, see that car? Right across the street? It's waiting for us." Selina steps out into the cold and Bruce falls forward, his entire weight landing on her shoulders. His eyes roll back, as well as his head. His arms and legs turn into jelly and his legs buckle underneath. "Please stay awake," Selina pleads.

He doesn't answer, and a surge of adrenaline washes over her. It seeps through her skin, crawls down her bones, travels in and out through her nerves, and it leaves _such_ a painful feeling. So this is what fear feels like.

She doesn't know how she manages it, but she and Bruce are in the car as she speeds along. Sometimes she starts going fifty or sixty on a city street, then turns corners at forty-five miles per hour. If people were out in the streets right now, she wouldn't mind running them over. She has more pressing concerns.

The blood has seeped through the gauze. He really is dying. Why does this time seem different? Is it because she has the power to stop it? Perhaps, but for now all she knows is that he might be forever gone and it will be her fault. Everything she ever does concerning Bruce is always her fault.

"Bruce, are you with me? Can you tell me the first time we met?" Selina nearly yells out. She takes a peek at him and discovers him completely slumped over the passenger seat, the life slowly coming out of him.

His lips move and he murmurs something. "I can't hear you, honey. I need you to speak louder. When was the first time we met? Tell me everything," she urges.

He says something indistinct, and finally Selina hears a faint "pearls."

"Good. What about the pearls? What happened after?" Just four more blocks and they're almost there. _Please don't die_. _Please._

She can't hear him over her beating heart which is pumping annoyingly fast. But Selina takes a quick side glance and sees him silently opening his mouth, and she automatically eases. Just a little.

They've made it. Several cars are lined up in front of the hospital, but thankfully the entrance isn't blocked. Selina pulls up to the main doors and slams on her brakes, swiftly getting out and rushing over to Bruce. As she opens the door, two nurses and doctor come by with a stretcher. Their eyes open real wide as they take in her appearance and the masked/half-naked man in the front seat. She ignores them for the time being and explains, "He's been stabbed on his right side. I tried to clean it up as much as I could."

The doctor, a handsome man in his middle thirties, nods and says, "I need you out of the way ma'am, so we can get him on the stretcher." Selina moves to the side and watches as the doctor and the nurses help Bruce into the bed.

As one nurse takes off the blankets surrounding Bruce, the other starts to peel off the mask. "No!" Selina grounds out and yanks their arm away. All three personnel stare at her, shocked and afraid of who is underneath. She gives them steely glares and says, "Don't even think about removing it, alright? If any of you even put a finger on it, Commissioner Gordon will have a nice long chat with you. Got it?" Using the Gordon card is a gamble, but it's the only way they'll keep quiet.

The nurses shake their head in agreement but the doctor – damn him – asks, "Why the secrecy? If he's a dangerous criminal –"

"Even if he was, I don't think you have the right to deny him his treatment." Bruce moans softly. "And you're wasting time," she grits through her teeth.

The doctor's jaw tightens. "We need a name."

Selina racks her brain for any names and hurriedly answers, "Tom. That's it."

The doctor starts pushing the stretcher and Selina rushes inside with them. All patients and families stare at her, but she's solely focused on Bruce and Bruce only. As everyone starts to run down the hall, yelling medical terms back and forth, more nurses come in, some checking his pulse and others removing his bandage. "Mister . . . Tom, can you hear me?" the doctor asks loudly, all the while giving Selina a wary glance. She glares back and refocuses her attention to Bruce. He hardly moves in his stretcher, and from what she can gather his vitals are terrible.

"Tom, can you tell me where we are?"

Amidst all the confusion and chaos, he still doesn't answer. Oh God, he's as good as dead. Selina wants to say words of encouragement, but she finds her throat oddly parched and constricted. She doesn't know what to say to him, and it all feels so strange. Somehow, despite the amount of people blocking her way towards Bruce, she finds her fingers intertwined through his. She grabs onto it real tight, and attempts to reassure him she's by his side. Bruce still doesn't utter a single syllable, but he seems much more relaxed and his fingers slightly move under her hand. Selina looks up at the doctor, and it appears he too noticed the movement.

"We'll take care of him from here," the doctor says softly. She continues to be with Bruce until they kick her out, slamming the surgery doors shut. Exhaustion finally gets to her and her legs give out underneath. Selina sits curled up against the wall, hugging herself, worried sick about Bruce, and wondering what the hell she's got herself into.

If this is the first of many IOUs, she'll have to be very patient in order to fulfill her debt. Very patient indeed.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you all for reading, reviewing, or even clicking it then walking away. :) **

**I think I said not to expect an update anytime soon, but obviously I lied. I was having some trouble on where to end this chapter, because it's a bit boring and filled with hospital stuff. I'm pretty sure every medical term I used is completely wrong. Blame it on Google. **

** Vain Vampire: Sorry "By Your Side" was too angsty! I just want everyone to know I'm a sucker for realism. Please don't expect Bruce and Selina to start banging in the next chapter. They will in the future. :) **

**I forgot to thank Team Damon for checking out the last chapter! And forgive me if my grammar sucks. As usual, reviews are greatly appreciated. If you guys have any suggestions, let me know! I'm always open to them. **

* * *

There's movement on her left side. She has no idea what it is, but her body reacts so violently the nurse is thrown on the ground, gasping for breath. It takes Selina a good five seconds to realize what's going on and where she's at. Somehow she moved to the waiting room and curled up on one of the seats. It's practically empty. She looks at the lady, a young one, and apologetically smiles. "You caught me off guard." Selina stands up and extends a leather hand. The nurse reluctantly takes it and promptly steps five feet back.

"No shit," she mumbles. Selina cracks a tiny grin. "I came here to tell you Mister Tom's well. Doctor Taft is in the room with him. He said you can visit . . . Tom if you wish," she adds.

Relief. Sweet, pure relief. Selina's never been the religious type, but she thanks every single deity in the world a million times over. "Alright," Selina answers. She stretches a tiny bit; the suit is really clinging on to her skin, and her body feels like it's been deprived of oxygen. "Where to?"

"I'll take you there," the nurse says hurriedly. Selina gives a small eye roll, annoyed that the staff thinks she'll do something rash. She's not that ostentatious. She starts walking away and Selina follows, desperate to see Bruce. It appears he's still in ICU, but at least (according to the nurse) he's in stable condition. Glancing at the clock, she taken aback once she realizes it's two in the afternoon. She's been here for nearly ten hours.

They reach room 271 and involuntarily Selina shivers, anticipation and fear coursing through her. Just because the nurse said Bruce is in stable condition doesn't mean half of his ribs could be gone. She swallows thickly, annoyed she can't seem to hide her emotions when it concerns Bruce. Hopefully the nurse can't notice.

She opens the door; the first person she sees is Dr. Taft, writing something on a clipboard. The curtains are pulled tight, the whirr of heavy machinery inexplicably loud in her ears. For some reason she can't bear to see Bruce. She can't see him drugged and knocked out and possibly dead. She's already seen it happen before. It's too much to handle.

Selina stays behind, so the only things she can see are the edge of the bed, chairs by the window and a TV. Dr. Taft looks up and smiles tightly. "You can come in, you know."

Reluctantly, she shuts the door behind her and walks forward. Selina quickly notices how out of place she appears, her blackness and sinful soul a stark contrast from the white. Another reason why she doesn't deserve anything, let alone second chances.

She finally takes a peek. Bruce is lying on the bed, tubes running through his arms and his nose. Thank God she had the foresight to cut off the mask. He's very pale, but other than that he's sleeping peacefully. He's alive and that's all that matters. Very quietly, Selina releases a long breath of relief. She really ought to pay her thanks to God and gods.

"Anything I should be afraid of, Doctor? Missing limbs, invisible screws on the sides of his face?" Selina looks at the doctor, finding it unbearable to see Bruce in such a condition even though he's steady.

He laughs tiredly and replies, "Not really. But he's basically in the worst shape possible. Someone his age should still have cartilage in their joints, and little to zero spinal issues. I found some scar tissue on his kidneys, and plenty of _other_ scars on his body." His eyes narrow and focus on Selina. She blankly stares back.

"He works in construction."

"Of course."

A moment of awkward silence passes. "So? Will he be able to walk?"

Dr. Taft nods and takes a look at the x-rays. "It seems like his back was broken – and I have no clue how he's not paralyzed – but his doctor or whoever did a hazardous job of patching him up. He'll need extensive therapy. Maybe some sort of miracle treatment. Also," he continues while sighing and flipping through charts, "_Tom_ had a very fancy knee brace. While it provides the necessary relief, he'll most likely need a knee replacement surgery. For both."

Jesus. Bruce is utterly broken inside _and_ out. "The stab wound will take a few weeks to fully heal. He was very lucky. It didn't rupture a single organ. We've put him on antibiotics and sleep medication, but only enough for a few hours. We're running low on supplies. He might feel some pain tomorrow, since he'll be off the medication." Dr. Taft takes a deep breath and resumes. "He has a grade three concussion, and coupled with all the other head injuries he's sustained, Tom might have a little trouble for a few months, maybe years. All in all, he's alive and well." Dr. Taft gently puts the chart back on the edge of his bed and crosses his arms.

"I appreciate everything you've done." She means it.

The doctor loses his tough demeanor and sighs. "It's my job. It's the least I can do."

"I'm sure these past months have been terrible."

"They have. We were lucky to have electricity on last night and today. The light might go off a few times, but he should be alright without the drips." He quietly adds, "We didn't take off the mask, I want you to know that."

Selina smiles slightly. She believes him. Dr. Taft gives a curt nod and walks out, leaving Selina alone with Bruce. She stands in the middle of the room and analytically watches him. The last time she was in a hospital her father was on a bed, dead from alcohol poisoning. She was nine when that happened, and unlike other nine year olds, Selina removed the sheet covering her useless father and saw his empty face.

She will never forget that moment.

It didn't scare her, you know. It made her become numb concerning death. She could easily kill another human being because she could. Death was death. Once your number was called, it was all over from there. There was no way of avoiding it. But unfortunately, after her father's passing, she had come to associate hospitals with false hope.

This time around, however, she's actually found another meaning for hospitals. There is hope but there is never _false_ hope. No one lies here. No one can. Death will always get you. And if it doesn't? Well, hip-hip hooray.

So she watches over him, like a hawk, because he's alive damn it. And she should be allowed to hope.

* * *

It isn't until eight in the evening when Bruce wakes up.

Selina's barely slept today. She did take a tiny nap, but a nurse happened to come in and disrupt her sleep. Selina gauges his movements, just to make sure he's not having a fitful dream or something. He seems fine and soon enough his eyelids open. It takes Bruce a good minute to adjust to his surroundings.

Finally, Selina gets up and slowly walks over to him. Her hands grab onto the rails and she leans down, critically eyeing him. So far, all of his fingers are intact, his nose seems OK, and the machines aren't beeping. His brown eyes stare right back at her and he swallows. "Someone's watching over you. I don't know who, but you're one lucky bastard."

Bruce doesn't roll his eyes or say anything other than "Water."

Selina quickly pours a glass of water and brings it over to Bruce. He's having trouble even lifting his head up, so Selina rests a hand on the nape of his neck and raises his head, all the while gently pouring water in his mouth. He greedily gulps it down and rasps out, "More." She fills up another glass and he chugs it down. Bruce sighs and briefly closes his eyes in sweet relief. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. Do you know what happened?"

He shakes his head. "I brought you to the hospital. You're going to need knee replacement surgery, not move your head around as much because you have a concussion, and it'll take you a couple of weeks before you can walk normally. Oh, and your hospital name is Tom, so don't forget it."

She probably shouldn't have dumped all that information at Bruce, but he's clearly not a child. He nods his head in agreement and asks, "Why are you still wearing your suit?"

Selina answers sarcastically, "I can't carry a duffle bag filled with makeup and clean clothes everywhere I go, you know."

"You . . . You mean you haven't gone back since you brought me in?"

She shrugs. "Didn't see the need to."

"Selina . . ."

She stands straighter and crosses her arms. "I just wanted to be here when you woke up. You should rest."

"Alright," he says tiredly. "What's on my face?"

Smiling Selina says, "You have a ski mask on. Pretty ingenious, huh?"

He hums his acknowledgement, and before long Bruce falls back to sleep. She, once again, watches for any abnormality, and quietly slips through the doors as his breathing slows down. Selina wants to bolt right out of Gotham. It's so taxing to take care of someone else. There's too much responsibility. But maybe it's time she grows the hell up and stop being so damn selfish. Maybe, if she can be somewhat as good as Bruce, then she won't feel the need to constantly compare herself to him. Selina's always wanted the upper hand – and she usually has – but with Bruce it's a totally different story. She wants to be an equal to him.

She'll find a way.

* * *

Exhaustion gets her in the best possible way. She sleeps and sleeps, devoid of haunting dreams. Jen came by once (and of course Selina woke up from her loud ass) but she left as soon as she saw tired Selina was. She feels bad for leaving Bruce all by himself in the hospital, and prays no one has tried to see who he really is. By the time she wakes up and heads out the door it's nine in the morning.

There's an extra bounce in her step today. And she'll be honest: it's because Bruce is alive. She already feels so guilty for sending him to Bane, and the fact that he's alive because of _her_ makes her feel a wee bit better. She has a bag of treats from before The Occupation and toothbrushes, one for her and one for Bruce. It's still chilly today, but the snow has kind of melted. She doesn't have her suit on, but her sunglasses are on real tight.

Her day automatically turns sour when she sees Gordon standing right in front of her apartment entrance, hands in his pockets and a sly smile on his lips. She likes Gordon, but it seems like the "good" doctor really did call him.

"What brings you here, Commissioner? Planning on arresting me on charges of property damages?" she deadpans.

"I was in the neighborhood. And that would be unkind of me, Miss Kyle." He steps forward, his face impossibly haggard. "After all, you helped save the city."

"I wouldn't call it saving. More like returning a favor."

Gordon smiles sadly and says, "I received a call from a doctor. The story is most unusual. He was rambling about a masked woman and a man who accompanied her. The doctor claims –"

This is so frustrating. "My friend needed treatment."

"But," Gordon continues, and Selina doesn't fail to notice a sparkle in his eyes, "Dr. Taft described a man with a stab wound on his right side –"

Her heart breaks. She never realized how much he cares for Bruce. While their relationship was professional at best, there was – is – a certain trust and mutual respect each had for one another. She's not sure if she should tell Gordon the truth. She feels like she should. But if Bruce wanted his friends to find out, he would have gone to them, not Selina. "He's not _him_," Selina answers quietly. Even though Selina's an incredible liar, this may the hardest lie she's had to give. "If it was I would've let you know . . ."

Gordon's face falls, transparently so. For the first time, Selina notices how old Gordon really is. Not just in age, but how much filth he's seen. This is a man, like Bruce, who never gave up. He's taken on the responsibility of rebuilding Gotham. Without the Commissioner, she doubts Bruce would've had a lot of success.

"One can hope, can't they Miss Kyle?"

"Yes, they can. I'm sorry."

He waves her off and glances at his surroundings. "He died saving a city he loved. That's all that matters."

It _is_ all that matters, Selina agrees. She's about to leave when Gordon gently lays a hand on her arm. She looks at it incredulously and asks, "I'm in a bit of a hurry."

The Commissioner removes his hand and says, "I understand, but I have a job offer for you, if you're interested. We could use some help around here."

Scoffing, Selina replies, "With all due respect, I plan on getting out of here the moment you let citizens pass. I'm done with Gotham."

"Hear me out first," Gordon says urgently. "The force and I will take care of the escapees from Blackgate. I just need the expertise of people like you and . . . him to arrest a couple of criminals."

Selina has a vague idea who they are, but she inquires anyway. "Who might the 'couple of criminals' be?"

Gordon grimaces and elegantly spits out, "Crane and The Joker."

"You weren't kidding when you said you needed my area of expertise." Crane Selina could handle, but The Joker? His level of insanity blows everyone out of the ballpark, including Bane and Dr. Crane. "And why would I do you this favor?"

Gordon's face softens. "You're more suited to take this job. Plus, he trusted you. That reasoning alone is enough for me."

Why are these men always on her case? She's not a saint. She's a sinner. What Selina did on Judgment Day was nothing compared to what Gordon and Bruce did for the past decade. Why do they feel the need to bring her in their elite group of angels? She fiddles with her bag. "I'm not who you think I am, Commissioner."

"I beg to differ, child. He saw something in you. It would be a . . . crime if I didn't honor him by letting you finish his work."

Her eyes snap up to his, shocked by his word choice. Perhaps, in some twisted way, Gordon feels the need to repay Batman as well. At least Selina's not the only one with a debt to compensate for. "I'll think about it," she promises. He nods and gives her his number, just in case she decides to join him. As Selina walks towards the hospital, she stops herself for a brief moment in the middle of the street, an epiphany hitting her.

_This_ is how she can be Bruce's equal and repay part of her debt. She can honor him by getting Gotham rid of these dirty criminals and leave the city in better hands. This, she can do.

It seems like Phase 1 of Operation Selina-owes-Bruce-big-time is underway.

* * *

They've moved him in the recovery section, since Gotham Hospital has hundreds of injured patients rolling in every few minutes. This area is much more crowded and has less privacy. A nurse directs her to Bruce's room, and just as Selina walks in the lights go off. A collective groan can be heard outside from all the personnel. Selina smirks but thinks better of it; people in dire situations need the electricity.

Bruce is slightly awake and still has the mask on. This is a little weird because she's actively seeking him out and making sure he's fine, something Selina never does. She adjusts her sunglasses and languidly walks in, dumping the bags on the counter. "Missed me?" She takes out a couple of Snickers bars and quickly chomps down on one, pulling a chair next to his bed.

"Indeed. I was worried my sidekick abandoned me," Bruce whispers. He clears his throat from lack of use and comments, "Nice sunglasses."

"Thanks. It helps with the migraines."

"You have migraines?" He's awfully chatty today.

"It's my cover." He probably can't see her roll her eyes underneath the glasses, but she does so anyway.

"Oh." Bruce shifts under the blankets and purses his lips.

"Are you in pain?"

He shakes his head. "No, my face is burning up," he rasps out. Selina can't blame him. She put a ski mask on his face for Pete's sake. Bruce writhers on the bed, his hand creeping up to his face so he can remove it.

Selina whacks his hand away and leans forward. "Do you want people to know Bruce Wayne is here?"

"Selina," he practically whines. "It's so hot. I'm sweating."

"Well, what do you want me to do?"

It's silent for a few seconds has Bruce tries to find an alternative solution. "Could you try cutting holes in the pillow case?"

A smile and a snort come forth. Bruce looks at her in annoyance and confusion. "Honey, if I put the pillow case over your head you'll look like you're part of the new and improved KKK."

He closes his eyes in defeat. "Alright."

"I didn't say I would let you sweat to death," Selina says hurriedly. She doesn't want Bruce to think she would let him heal in agony. "Let me see if anyone is outside before you take it off." Selina gets up and moves the curtain aside. She peeks her head left and right, then gives Bruce the thumbs up. When she turns back around, Bruce is sighing in relief.

Selina sits back in the chair and asks, "Better?"

"Much." She glances at his face cuts and decides to clean the big one. Selina walks over to the cabinet and crouches down, looking for antibacterial wipes and gauze in the dark, all the while using her cell phone as a flashlight. Thankfully she finds a hefty set for both materials and works on cleaning Bruce. He doesn't say anything, and instead he hums a little as she patches him up, his eyes closing.

When she finishes she lays a hand on his forehead, finding it exceptionally warm. "When was the last time they took your temperature?"

Bruce snaps out of his quick nap and says, "A couple of hours ago? I don't remember."

Her brows furrow. He shouldn't be getting a fever the next day, even though he's been taking antibiotics. "This isn't a good sign. I'm going to call the doctor."

He begins to protest but Selina presses the call button anyway. Much to her disdain, the lights are off. Annoyed, Selina walks out and asks an EMT for a nurse. She goes back inside, and waits a minute to let the bandages to dry up before putting the mask on, while Bruce huffs in discontent. It takes six minutes for a nurse to come in; by the time she arrives, Selina is royally pissed. "Everything alright?" the nurse questions.

"Obviously not. He has a fever, and he shouldn't have one since he's on antibiotics," she accuses. Selina narrows her attention and adds, "I want Dr. Taft here." _In addition to kicking his ass for calling Gordon._

The nurse, another young girl, checks Bruce's temperature and says, "It's nothing out of the ordinary."

"I still want Dr. Taft here."

She looks around in discomfort and says, "I'm really sorry, but he's extremely busy right now. I can't give anything to Tom at this moment because I need Dr. Taft's approval. This usually happens but . . ."

"But what?" Selina dangerously asks.

She clears her throat and answers, "I'll see if I can speak with Dr. Taft." Selina gives a terse nod and focuses her attention back to Bruce.

"You've scared her," Bruce states before sighing and turning his head to the side.

"It's the only way to get things done around here, apparently," Selina responds moodily. She doesn't know why she's pissed, but she _is_ angry at Dr. Taft and at herself for telling him to call Gordon.

A moment of silence interrupts them. It feels so awkward, sitting around and being . . . normal, in some respects. She's not sure how long they can stay in the hospital before someone will start asking questions, and if Bruce needs to escape unnoticed, he has to get out of here before the police close the borders. Abruptly, the light turns back on, and Selina finds Bruce fast asleep. The drips start working again, and after a few annoying beeps the machines are functioning.

Everything goes back to ordinary for a bit, and Selina waits for the good doctor, all the while planning an escape route in her head. Old habits die hard.

* * *

Dr. Taft arrives an hour and a half later. Roughly, he pushes the curtains aside but lightly shuts it once he finds Bruce sleeping and Selina's scowl. "Hello, doctor."

"Ma'am." He walks over to Bruce, avoiding her eyes, and says quietly, "Allison said Tom had a slight fever. It's not uncommon –"

"What took you so long?" Selina hisses.

His face hardens and he stoically replies, "I'm a doctor trying to help hundreds of patients every second. I can't personally attend everyone. Even my residents – the ones who were willing stay and help – are scrambling around."

"Oh," Selina begins as she crosses her arms, "but you had enough time to call Commissioner Gordon, didn't you?"

A brief look of guilt flickers through his face, but he promptly covers it up. "You told me to call him."

"And _I_ told _you_ he wasn't dangerous. Still don't trust me, huh?"

"No, I don't," he says matter-of-factly, staring straight at her.

Selina eyes him like a lion waiting for its prey as Dr. Taft looks at Bruce's charts and drips. Bruce wakes up as the doctor fiddles with the IV on his arm, and Selina immediately notices how he cringes and is ready to fight when he sees Dr. Taft. He's caught Bruce unawares, unfortunately. "Hello Tom. Feeling OK?"

"Yes," Bruce answers.

"Feel any pain anywhere else?"

"No." Dr. Taft inspects Bruce for a few minutes and eventually tells him everything is fine.

The doctor adjusts himself and adds, "I'm going to have to take you off the pain medication, unfortunately. We don't have very many supplies here. After a couple of hours we'll take you off the antibiotics. I hope you understand the situation." Bruce nods. Selina's irritated.

"When can we leave?" Selina inquires as nicely as she can.

The doctor gives a hateful glance towards Selina and instead addresses Bruce. "You can leave tomorrow, but you won't be in tip-top shape. We'll keep you here overnight just to be safe." He softly pats Bruce's arm and hurries out of the room, pretending Selina isn't there. It's settled then: she absolutely detests Dr. Taft.

Bruce carefully watches Dr. Taft leave then asks Selina, "Do you two have some history?"

Selina exhales and says, "God no. He's just gotten on my bad side, that's all."

"It seems like everyone always ends up on your bad side," he mumbles as he drifts off.

_Everyone except you_, she thinks.

* * *

Bruce is discharged the following evening, and compared to how they arrived two days before, this is much more clam. Selina has to steal another car, but since citizens of Gotham had to worry about mercenaries as much, all of their possessions are hidden away. Even huge, hulking cars. She makes Bruce walk for a small bit, and then Selina circles around for another two blocks as she tries to find one. It takes her fifteen minutes, and by the time she rolls around Bruce is shivering from the cold. And scowling because he knows she stole the car.

It's six in the evening (or is it night? Selina's never known whether she should consider hours five through six evening during the winter), and regrettably there are plenty of people outside. There was a fire and some looting going on downtown, but thankfully they're miles away from that area. As they drive through Old Town, thugs and whatnot stand outside, waiting for their next prey or just waiting in general.

The car is silent, but she's OK with it. There's no need to create small talk. At least not yet.

Selina couldn't handle staying in the hospital, so she would leave during the day and come back at night as Bruce slept. Visiting hours didn't really matter since the hospital staff couldn't enforce it, so she'd slip in at night, just like she always has. She didn't even know if Bruce wanted her there. Just the idea of sitting around was so unappealing. Besides, who is she to Bruce? A friend? Semi-friend? Did she even deserve to be with him in the hospital? And why did he come to her, the most unreliable – and selfish – person around?

She pulls up in front of her apartment and hands Bruce a baseball cap. He removed his mask as soon as he got in the car, and she didn't fail to notice his enormous sigh of relief, as well as the disgusted look he had when he threw the mask in the back seat. "Can you handle the stairs, big guy?"

Bruce toys with the hat and smirks. "Do you plan on carrying me?"

"Not today."

"Well then, no." He smiles and puts the cap on, all the while sending Selina a boyish grin. Her stomach does a little flip-flop.

Bruce struggles to get himself up. Selina walks over to his side and has him hook his arm around her shoulders. A whiff of hospital scent, mixed in with Bruce's own unique smell, assaults her. Snapping out of her thoughts, she starts to pull him up when he groans loudly and his face scrunches in pain. _Shitshitshitshitshit _– "What's wrong?"

Half of his body is still in the car; he sags heavily against the doorframe, Selina's arm crushed in between his weight and the frame. She doesn't complain. Bruce takes a few deep breaths and politely says, "Please don't pull me up so hard next time."

Her heart pounds in shame and she doesn't know what else. It's her fault he's hurting, and the amount of guilt surrounding her is too much to bear. How can she function and pay off her debt when Selina feels _this_ remorseful every single time when she's around Bruce? Swallowing her emotions inside, she proceeds to gently lift him up, paying attention to every expression of discomfort and making sure it doesn't happen again. It takes them five minutes to get to the front door. Selina's apartment is on the third floor. Although it's easier to go down the stairs, going back up will be much harder.

She can only imagine what Bruce is feeling at this moment. Selina doesn't say anything but pushes him along instead, her arms tightly wrapped around him. For a slight second Bruce tries to grab onto the railings and lift himself up without Selina's help, but he quickly finds out it's nigh impossible. Somehow, Bruce propels forward as if his life depends on it. Well, it kind of does.

Sweat is dripping from his face. His arms shake when he puts his body weight on them, and his breathing is ragged. The only thing Selina can do is put a reassuring hand on his slightly wet back. She's standing on pins and needles, and she feels _so_ out of control.

It's a miracle that nobody has come out. It truly fucking is. By the time she and Bruce get to the third floor, he's sliding against the wall and Selina stands right behind him, her hands splayed against his back and pushing him forward. Luckily her apartment is right in front of the stairs. "We're almost there, old man."

Bruce huffs out a laugh. He stands still, gasping for breath, as Selina tries to wiggle away from Bruce to get in front of him. "Let me open the door first." He nods and hangs onto the railing. Selina opens the door as fast as she can, her own body shaking from all the emotions. The door opens and Selina stands in the front, prepared to grab him.

"Ready?" Groaning, Bruce forces himself to take another four steps. Selina steps forward in agitation and immediately clutches onto his arm as tightly as she can. In return, Bruce wraps his hand around Selina's arm, and she knows she'll find a bruise there. He grunts one more time, and finally they're inside. Once again, Bruce is sagging heavily against her, and she scuffles along, trying not to show any discomfort.

After they pass the hallway, Selina stops and asks Bruce, "Do you want to rest on the couch or the bed? It'll be easier for you to go straight to bed. You won't have to get up again."

Bruce takes a deep breath. "I don't need the bed, Selina. The couch will be fine."

Scoffing, Selina commands, "_No_. I'm sorry, but don't you realize the condition you're in?" Bruce begins to protest but she quickly silences him. "No buts. Come on."

She feels shitty for making him work extra, but as long as he sits down comfortably, she won't have to worry about him for a while. Bruce is walking a bit better here as opposed to the stairs, but she doesn't miss his very strict concentration, nor the way he sucks in his stomach to stifle the pain. They shuffle along her apartment, and after an eternity they reach her bed. Bruce gingerly sits down, and their breathing is inexplicably loud in the confines of her sanctuary. It's very dark in here; Selina lights up a few candles and tries to pretend Bruce isn't here.

Suddenly, Selina hears the bed shift and an automatic groan. "What's wrong?" Her heart begins to hammer once again, and where the hell is electricity when you need it?

"I . . . I need help lying on the bed," Bruce says hoarsely.

Selina rushes over to him, but once she gets there she has no clue what to do. "I need some directions." Considering the last time Selina tried to help him, she needs to make sure she follows what Bruce says before he starts hurting again.

"Can you lift my legs up as I start to lie down? When I lift one of my legs up my stomach starts to hurt," Bruce explains.

"Alright." Selina brings a candle over to the nightstand and adjusts her eyes. Crouching down, she finds Bruce's feet and grasps his ankles. "Tell me when, old man."

She hears Bruce take a deep breath before he starts pulling himself back, so he can rest his head on the pillow. As his body moves Selina carefully raises his legs, waiting for him to say anything. He doesn't, so she continues to lift them up, and once he's somewhat settled, Selina puts his legs on the bed. "Did that hurt?" Selina anxiously asks. _Did I hurt you?_

"No, it didn't," he replies. Bruce takes a few generous gulps of air and rests his hands on his chest. He turns his head to the side and peers at Selina, his brown eyes probing. "Thank you."

"I seem to be getting that a lot from you lately." Selina stands back and crosses her arms, pretending like this entire situation doesn't affect her.

"I'm serious," Bruce says earnestly.

This is awkward. And weird. "As if I didn't know it already." She can see Bruce smirk a little. "Do you want anything? I have some water bottles and a couple of fruit lying around."

He shakes his head. "I just need to rest."

"Alright." Bruce closes his eyes. Selina walks over to her closet and takes out a blanket, gently putting it over him. She stands far away and doesn't tuck him in, because that's something a mother or a lover or a girlfriend would do. Hell, even a friend would do that. But Selina's not a friend. She's a nobody protecting someone who most likely will forget about her.

She doesn't want him to.

* * *

She doesn't love him. She doesn't know if she will. But he makes her feel whole, shitty, stupid, childish, mature, suave, and above all _thankful_. So she watches him and thinks about all the mistakes she's ever made. The funny thing about this is that two years ago, even a year ago, she never would have thought those "survival skills" were mistakes. Some were and others were not. Sending Bruce to Bane was a massive mistake, though.

In return, this is why Selina feels whole, shitty, stupid, childish, mature, suave, and above all _thankful _when she's around Bruce. Because when you feel for someone, it's not one single emotion you sense. It's a combination of million other feelings, all rushing in and out of your body, sometimes slow and sometimes fast.

It scares her that she's feeling something for Bruce. And other times it doesn't, no matter how uncomfortable her emotions are.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: MAMMOTH CHAPTER EVERYONE. **

**And yuck, long waits. Trust me, I tried to crank this out as fast as I could. I spent several lectures writing this chapter rather than paying attention and taking notes. :p**

**The turmeric/salt/mustard oil thing I mention on here actually helps with injuries, especially with internal bruising, etc. Got into an accident a while back and literally had no pain the next day after I applied it on. Totally recommend using it! Make sure to warm it up beforehand. **

**Anyway, I have to thank the folks who reviewed, click, favorited and whatnot. I gotta thank the lovely Team Damon for spewing out ideas and keeping me on my toes. And last but not least, I have to thank the wonderful DamadiSangue for helping me with the Italian! Thank you!**

**Pardon for any grammatical mistakes. :) **

* * *

She's barely slept. Not only is the couch uncomfortable to sleep on, she can hear every movement and sound Bruce makes. She knows he's had a restless night, and every time the bed creaks it's most likely because he's tossing and turning.

After spying on him for a good hour, Selina attempted to tidy her apartment. All of her little trinkets she's collected over the years were splattered about, and even though she shoved most of it in closets, it was completely useless. Besides, it's not like Bruce hasn't seen her apartment before. He would have to deal with her original – and stolen – pieces lying around. She did move some objects from the floor, just in case either one of them tripped.

She was bored, that's all. As of now, the clock reads seven in the morning. Selina stares up at the ceiling, counting all the little marks here and there. Bruce appears to be sleeping, so she buys her time to sit back and think.

It amazes her to think two days ago she was fighting alongside the Batman, wheeling around on the Batpod and blowing stuff up. It amazes her she thought they were all going to die from a nuclear bomb, and the fact she wouldn't have a chance to live again. It amazes her she stayed, even after promising Bruce she would leave without a moment's hesitation.

Those two minutes were perhaps the most pivotal in her entire life. Mind you, she was _so_ close to running away. But she stayed and fought. And she's still here.

It really is amazing.

Guilt is powerful. It can make you do rash decisions, or it can make you not do anything at all. It can tear your insides upside down, throw them around, and make you a totally different person. Selina doesn't want to be a different person. She wants to be herself. But stealing, cheating, and lying defines her. By being cleaning up her mistakes, she'll be a different Selina. Or will she? Perhaps Selina will become the Selina she was meant to be.

It scares her that she's willing to change. Before she was perfectly alright with simply running away and stealing from foreigners. Now? She has to let that go.

But she's strong. She can throw a 250 pound man on the ground in a moment's notice, she can climb on rooftops, and she can jump from tall buildings. And if she can do that, then she can sure as hell make herself become a slightly better person.

* * *

Bruce wakes up in the afternoon and calls out for Selina. When she comes inside, he's delirious and sweating. All the covers are on the ground, he's shirtless, and Bruce is tossing. Selina's heart thuds beneath her chest. Does he secretly have epilepsy?

"Bruce?" she asks quietly. Selina walks over to him, and hesitates before shaking his shoulder. His shoulder is slick with sweat, his eyes burning. "Are you alright?" _Of course he's not alright. _

He moans and croaks, "Water." Selina rushes over to the kitchen, grabs a water bottle, and runs back to her room. Bruce isn't tossing and turning as much, and he seems to have calm down a bit. She opens the bottle and hands it to him, but he can barely sit up. Selina halfway sits on the bed, cradles his head, and pours the water gently down his throat. Greedily, he drinks the entire bottle and sighs dramatically.

"Do you want more?" Bruce shakes his head and loudly sighs. Once his breathing has slowed down, Selina presses her hand against his forehead. He's burning up once more, and instantly Selina panics. He needs a doctor and medicine fast.

"Bruce, how long have you been awake?" she asks.

It takes him a couple of seconds to respond. He stares off, then focuses his attention back to Selina. "No idea. I barely slept . . ."

"I know."

"I prefer not to use medication for this . . . fever."

Snorting, Selina replies, "If it wasn't for the fancy meds you would be dead by now." Realizing she's been sitting on the bed with Bruce's head practically on her lap, she stands up and crosses her arms. "You need a doctor."

Bruce quietly groans and responds with a firm "No."

"Did it ever cross your mind that you might have an infection?"

He swallows and says, "It's not possible, Selina. They gave me antibiotics."

She scoffs and angrily replies, "If you don't want to live, you shouldn't have come to me."

Selina immediately realizes the enormity and brashness of her comment. Instantly she reddens, beyond embarrassed. Bruce closes his eyes and says, "I know."

"I didn't mean it that way," Selina stammers. Great, she just ruined everything in a matter of seconds. "I –"

"I know, Selina," Bruce says softly. "But I've had worse. This is just a symptom. I appreciate everything you've done. Honestly." His eyes become warmer and he smiles slightly. Selina feels horrible.

"You still need to see a doctor," she states quietly.

"If I'm running a fever later tonight, then we can go. But I promise it's not life-threatening," Bruce assures her. He closes his eyes and sighs again. Selina wants to argue with him some more, but it's all up to him. Shrugging, she gathers up the blankets Bruce threw on the ground and gently lays it over him.

She doesn't tuck him in entirely, but she makes sure his feet are warm.

* * *

True to his word, Bruce's fever went away by nine at night. She had been worried and hoped it wasn't serious. She was adamant about getting Bruce a doctor, but he refused no matter what she said. Selina even resorted to threatening. Currently, she's sitting in her living room and eating her dinner. When she finished warming up chicken soup and went into her bedroom, Bruce was fast asleep. He'll just have to eat cold soup, or he'll have to wait until the light turns back on.

Just as Selina's about to be done, she a light blue piece of paper slip under her door. Damn it, it's Jen. Selina stays still and wills her to go away, but Jen impatiently whispers, "_Psst!_ I know you're in there!"

Slowly, Selina gets up and walks to the door, pressing her body against the door frame and cracks it open. Jen's frizzy blonde hair comes into the sight and Selina smiles. "Jen. What a surprise," she says as quietly as she can. It's incredibly dark; the lights have been off for a good three hours.

She scoffs and says, "Seriously, like, I was flipping shit. Where've you been?" She tries to peek inside, but Selina maneuvers her body so Jen can't see. "What's going on?" Jen asks, and thank God she's keeping her voice down. She's not as dumb as she looks.

"None of your business," Selina deadpans.

Jen's suspicious and raises an eyebrow. "Is someone in there?"

"No –"

"Selina?"

_Fuck. _Jen's eyes widen and she leans forward. "Did you kidnap another congressman? Who's the guy?" She tries to open the door, but Selina firmly presses back and gives a steely glare.

"Don't even think about it."

"Selina," she whines. "I can help. I'm bored."

This is why Selina didn't want her here. She is so persistent, loud and clumsy. "Look you can't . . ." Realization dawns on her and she smiles. "Actually, yes, you can help me."

"Sure!" Jen says eagerly. "Anything."

Selina rolls her eyes at Jen's enthusiasm but tells her, "I need some men's clothing. Pants, shirts, underwear, a jacket, whatever you can find."

"That's it?" Jen asks incredulously. She keeps turning her head to the side, desperately trying to see who's inside. "Are you having some sort of sleepover . . . with a secret boyfriend?" she whispers the last part. Her eyes widen in excitement.

Selina once again rolls her eyes and replies, "Yes. It's a 'Yay We're Alive' fucking marathon. So if you could please get the items I asked for –"

"Pants, tighty-whities, and shirts. Got it. What size?"

Selina's never been good with men's clothing; naturally, women's clothing is more of her thing. "You could start with medium sized shirts, maybe a size 32 in pants." She really has no idea what the hell she saying, but some clothes are better than no clothes.

Jen peers at her apprehensively and assures her, "Don't worry, I think have an idea what kind of size the guy is."

The more she thinks about it, the better Selina feels knowing someone can help her out in this weird predicament. "Thanks Jen. Now chop-chop. I need the clothes in a couple of hours, max."

"OK, OK." She starts to walk away before turning around and sheepishly asking, "Is he cute?"

Selina slams the door shut.

* * *

She pauses by Bruce's room and sneaks a peek, the bowl of soup warming her cold hand by the second. The light turned back on, and Selina was able to warm it. Thankfully, she finds Bruce alert, sitting up and awake. "Brought you some food." Selina hands it over to him, and Bruce greedily shoves spoonful after spoonful.

"Who was at the door?" Bruce suddenly asks. Some of his color is returning back to his face; this is definitely a good sign.

Selina shrugs and answers, "It was Jen." He looks up at Selina, confused. "You've met her – blonde hair, short. You two were arguing when you came by my apartment the first time." A shiver runs down her spine, and she attempts to avoid the fact later that night she sent Bruce to Bane, and nearly got him killed.

Bruce nods in acknowledgment and resumes eating. "This almost tastes like the real thing," he notes, and primly wipes his mouth with a napkin before taking in another spoon. Since Bane's Occupation, the entire city has been living on canned soups, vegetables – basically anything in a tin can. After a few months of eating bland food, she started to make adjustments.

"I played master chef in the kitchen earlier today. Put a few spices and flavoring in there," Selina answers. "You're welcome," she teases and smiles. It's good to see him awake and well.

His eyes glance up to his, and Selina's _this_ close to shying away and blushing like some virgin. _The hell?_ "Thank you," Bruce responds quietly. "I appreciate the valiant effort you put to make this plastic product edible."

Selina barks out a laugh. It sounds so strange in her ears; she hasn't laughed out loud in a very long time. Only he would be able to elegantly call this shitty soup the greatest in the world, and still sound like a pompous jerk. Bruce chuckles wearily and continues eating his dinner. Clearing her throat, Selina goes right back to business and briskly asks, "Still got a fever?"

He shakes his head and devours his last bit of dinner. Bruce sets the bowl aside. "I'm just tired."

"Understandable." Selina glances down at Bruce's stomach and his bandages. She hesitates but says, "We need to clean your battle wound. We're lucky to have electricity on. Might as well make the most of it."

"I almost forgot I had that on," Bruce mutters. "Do you have the bandages?"

No, she doesn't. "I'll be right back." She walks over to the bathroom and takes out her first-aid kit, along with an extra roll of gauze, something she stole from the hospital. Selina comes back to the room and dumps the contents on Bruce's feet, and goes into the kitchen to get something extra.

She brings in the tiny container and sets it on the bedside table. "What's that?" Bruce questions.

"War paint. It'll make you're injury appear much . . . cooler." Selina smirks and Bruce sheepishly brushes her comment aside. She sits on the edge of the bed. "Ready?"

Bruce is more or less already sitting, which makes her job a lot easier. The doctors had pinned the bandage instead of taping it, and much to Selina's surprise it stayed put. She takes it out and slowly starts to unwrap. Her hand gets stuck on Bruce's side; she doesn't want to yank on it, and fears if she does it'll hurt Bruce. Suddenly, she feels cold fingers lightly touch hers and gently take the wrap out of her hand. "I got it," Bruce grunts out. He starts to remove it, and winces in pain as he brings it around his back. Selina immediately grabs onto the binding and carries it out to the front. They continue to do this ministration a couple more times, and Selina doesn't fail to notice how her face is so close to his chest, nor does she fail to notice his abs. Selina almost rolls her eyes at her immature, girlish thinking, but it's been months since she's been near a man. And this is _Bruce Wayne_.

Once the wrap is taken out, Selina zeros in on the stab wound, nicely covered in thick gauze. Selina leans back and frowns. "I think you should take a shower."

Bruce is slightly taken aback and immediately reddens. Stammering, Bruce says, "I know it's been –"

"I'm not saying you stink," Selina replies sharply. Surprisingly, he really doesn't. Sure, she can see that he was sweating and it has been a while, but Selina's gone through – and smelled – worse. She sighs and softens. "It would be nice for you to relax with a warm bath. And we won't worry about the wound getting infected or something."

He relaxes a bit and Bruce grins. "That sounds like a good idea."

"Alright."

"OK."

It's silent for a moment. Selina gets up and towers over him. "Can you stand?"

Bruce loudly exhales. "Yes. It's not as hard as you think," he lightly adds.

After a few moments, he starts to swing his right leg over and instantly grimaces. Selina watches him carefully, but stays put because he needs to rehabilitate on his own. His hand grabs onto the bedside table, but the amount of force he puts into it nearly topples it over. Selina immediately grabs Bruce's arm and holds onto it real tight; she practically lifts him up. Nervously, Bruce laughs and says, "I don't think I've ever been this helpless."

Selina finally pulls him up all the way with Bruce dumping all of his weight on her. "Yeah, you're forty and –" Bruce starts to hobble away from the bed, and Selina tightens her grip around his arm "– your personal jet nearly killed you. You are human, after all."

Bruce hums and focuses on walking towards the bathroom. He's wearing another pair of Selina's shorts. She attempted to find the baggiest pair and tried to stretch it as much as she could, but the fabric is clinging onto Bruce's thighs and highlighting his assets. Selina nearly groans in annoyance. Why oh why does she keep thinking like _that_? Bruce is a good looking man who happened to crash at her place. So what?

Luckily Selina's bathroom is only a few paces away from her bed, so Bruce doesn't have to walk as much. Once they get into the bathroom, Selina lets go of him and lets Bruce walk over to the toilet. He puts the seat cover down and sits, breathing heavily. Tiredly, he looks up at her and says, "I can take it from here."

She's not the type of girl who takes care of people, but she's worried he might hurt himself in the shower. Regardless, she says, "Whatever you want. Just . . . call me whenever you need something." Bruce nods seriously and she leaves the bathroom, hoping Jen's back with the clothes. It all feels so weird, taking care of Bruce and acting as if nothing happened. She's just so busy making sure he doesn't die, and all these little moments feel almost surreal.

She heads to the living room, and she abruptly sees a blue paper poking underneath; Jen's finally here. Once Selina cracks the door as wide as she can without letting her friend see who's inside, Jen's impatiently tapping her foot and holding the bags as if it's filled with germs. "I got everything you asked. As for the underwear, I was able to find some nice designer Calvin Klein ones from Macy's. It's meant to, ya know, _conform_ to your shape," she explains, winking. Jen hands the bags to Selina.

Selina takes out a packet from the underwear bag and scrutinizes the male model. "I bet he's gay."

"OMG he's not gay! Why would you say such a thing?" Jen admonishes. "Whatever. You can have congressmen who take a bunch of Viagra, and I can have this sexy man to myself."

Smiling sadly Selina says, "I think we all want a sexy model as a boyfriend. Thanks for bringing these."

Jen waves her off. "Yeah sure, no problem. It's least I can do." She walks backwards and says, "Night."

Selina nods and shuts the door. She stands there for a moment, thinking. Honestly, she hopes one day Jen can walk out of Gotham with a brand new life, find someone worthy – and hot – enough for her, and live the life Selina always wanted. Shaking these thoughts away, Selina heads back to the bathroom and knocks on the door. She can hear the water running, and hopes to God Bruce isn't lying in the bathtub, dead. "Is everything alright? I brought you some clothes."

A couple of seconds pass. "Uh, that's good. You can put them inside," Bruce replies.

Selina hesitates. What if Bruce is naked with the shower curtains open? She's already seen him without clothes, but he was unconscious then. She has no idea why she's feeling all shy and demure right now, but she wants to respect his boundaries. She's ruined it a handful times already, so she can't afford to do it again. Slowly, Selina opens the door and inches forward. Seems like the shower is running, and the mirror is already foggy. The bloody gauze is in the trash can.

Her hand instinctively goes up to her eyes, and she blindly walks forward. "I'll . . . put the clothes next to the towel bar." Bit by bit, Selina's fingers spread apart, and she catches Bruce's outline from the shower curtain. He's standing still, apparently leaning against the wall.

"Thanks."

Selina jumps out of her thoughts then says, "I'm going to put a pair of scissors on the sink. The clothes still have tags on and stuff, so . . ." She reaches down and opens up the drawer, taking out a small scissor that's part of her nail kit. She's always used this one for clothes. Setting it on the sink, Selina glances up and stares at Bruce. From what she can gather, he's still in the same position and it worries her.

"Are you OK? Do you need help?"

Finally, she sees some movement. She can see Bruce shake his head, and he answers back with a lame "I'm fine."

Selina decides to let it go. "Just let me know when you're out, so we can put the bandages on."

"Yeah." Selina leaves the bathroom, her back pressed against the door. Sighing, she runs her hand through her hair and sits on the floor. She hasn't taken care of someone like this since her aunt. After her father passed away, Selina took residence with her Aunt Caroline. She was beyond wonderful and absolutely detested her father. A year later, they found out she had breast cancer and it had already spread – badly. Her aunt couldn't afford to pay for treatment, unfortunately, and in the time Aunt Caroline's health deteriorated, Selina took care of her aunt day in and day out. She had matured in so many ways, and every time Selina went to school she could hardly stand the whiny kids bitching about their nonexistent problems. She kept her mouth shut, though, because sitting and complaining got nothing done.

But this time around, she feels like she hasn't done _enough_. She feels useless, incompetent, and above all irrelevant.

"Selina?"

She jerks a little and gets up, gathers the items from her bed, and swiftly opens the door. Bruce is sitting on the toilet, a resigned look on his face. He's wearing sweats but no shirt, and his hair is dripping all over the place, his chest completely wet. "It appears I forgot to give you a towel." She's such an idiot.

He laughs a tiny bit and says, "It's not a big deal. By the time I was able to pull my pants up I was already dry."

"We still need you dry so we can put the gauze on." Selina steps out of the bathroom and opens the closet, grabbing a random towel. Unfolding it, she walks forward and leans down, gently tapping the towel on his chest. Bruce smells of fresh soap and something else; she can't place it, and his smell is assaulting her. She tries to stay as far away as possible, but Bruce keeps on staring at her as if she's some sort of angel helping him out.

"See something you like?" she asks. Still, Selina refuses to look up at him.

Bruce laughs timidly and says, "Just . . . thinking." He glances up at the ceiling and exhales. "I have a lot of time to think nowadays."

"Is that a bad thing?" she questions, and runs the towel on the tops of his shoulders.

"Depends on what I'm thinking about."

Selina keeps silent, understanding exactly what he's talking about. Sometimes it's easier to not think, but your thoughts just pull you in no matter what you do. In the end, you're stuck in a web of regrets and _what could have been, _and it sucks. Terribly. "You better find a way to start thinking differently then." Selina takes out an alcohol swab and gently wipes the wound. Bruce hisses and grits his teeth. Overlooking it, she cleans him up as fast as she can so he won't feel a lot of pain. The wound is stitched, but the surrounding area is somewhat red. She finishes drying him and takes out the little container.

"Honestly, what is that?" Bruce asks dubiously. His eyebrows are slightly scrunched; he's acting as if it's poison.

Sighing exasperatedly, Selina explains. "It's turmeric mixed in with mustard oil and salt. It helps with internal injuries, and it doesn't sting. Trust me on this, will you?"

"What makes you think I don't?"

Her eyes snap up to his, a mix of emotions threatening to tear her apart. _Well Bruce, I sent you to Bane knowing exactly what he was planning to do, and thoroughly fucked Gotham up its ass for a good five months due to my mistake. You were injured because of me, and yet you wonder why I believe you don't trust me? Please. _Instead she answers, "I can't think of a solid reason just now." A white lie. Selina recognizes that Bruce can see past it, but much to her relief he stays quiet.

Selina begins to apply the medication on his wound, her fingers softly running over his stiches. He doesn't make any sound of pain, but he sucks in his stomach every so often. "This is going to stain your skin for a bit."

"As long as it does the job, I'm fine with it."

"Hmm." Selina's done applying it on and takes out some gauze, putting over his injury and taping it down. She glances all over Bruce's body and sees a million other bruises. She suggests, "We should put this on the rest of your body. You're bruises look incredibly –"

"Sexy?"

"Hilarious." She smiles and replies, "I was going to say 'nasty,' but if you insist . . ."

Bruce shakes his head and peers at his bruises. "You're right – they _do_ look incredibly nasty." His hand starts to reach out for the container before Selina yanks it back.

"What are you trying to do?"

"I can put it on myself, Selina."

She scoffs. "Please. There's no need to act tough around me, sweetheart." Bruce begins to protest until she cuts him off. "It's a small task. I don't mind." _It's the least I can do_.

He doesn't say anything, and Selina proceeds to put the herbal medication on. Most of his bruises are on his shoulders and sides of his stomach. There are some scattered in around his back and his chest, but they're miniscule compared to the larger ones. They're silent as she puts it on, and Selina stays focused as much as she can. Bruce breathes loudly and patiently waits as she finishes her task. "There. All done."

Bruce takes a long look at his body, then glances up at Selina and says, "Thanks."

She ignores it and asks, "Do you want me to wrap a bandage around your waist? It'll keep the gauze intact."

Once again Bruce glances down at his wound, but he shakes his head and responds with a nonchalant "Nope." Selina shrugs and gets up. She looks over her shoulder then back at Bruce.

"Ready to go back?" She can see how tired he is, and wishes she doesn't have to carry him.

He sighs and purses his lips. "No." His mouth gradually starts to move upwards until he's outright grinning, and sure enough, she's smirking too. His smile is infectious. Everything about him is infectious.

He's a damn good charmer.

* * *

Time passes as slowly as possible. She wants to shoot herself. She's never been this bored before, and much to her annoyance Bruce is constantly sleeping. He deserves every bit of rest, but Selina has no one to talk to. Jen isn't coming by as often, probably because she's giving Selina some space. She really ought to be nicer to her little apprentice, but Selina's way too busy right now. Like sitting around and feeding Bruce, because that takes up _so_ much of her time.

It's been a week since Batman saved the day, and the city is growing antsy. People want to leave this hellhole, no matter what the cost. Every so often, she sees a family or roommates piling things in a car, then driving off, only to return a few hours later.

She hears things when she goes out at night. Ever since she put a bomb through the tunnel, citizens of Gotham have been trying to leave through there with limited gas in their tanks. Some folks have resorted to stealing whatever boats are left and attempt to escape. The police want to control the situation as much as they can, because if an escaped criminal slips right under their noses, the blame will fall on them, not to mention another American city can't afford a Bane wannabe. Apparently there's a checkpoint in front of the tunnel, causing several hours of waiting in a car.

So today, Selina is out and about in the daytime, walking towards the tunnel and passing up cars, motorcycles, and even plain old bikes. The sky is gloomy, the wind biting her skin. She relishes it; it's been a while since Selina was outside during the day. People in the back are anxiously waiting, but as she continues forward, there's commotion going on.

An officer tries to reason with an angry man. As Selina assesses the situation, she notices his family in the car next to him, and soon enough, other people get out and start to watch. More police officers come by, trying to move the residents away, but with no avail.

Something stirs in her, and suddenly she finds herself _wanting_ to pick a fight. She wants to break a nose, to tell someone off, and even possibly render them handicapped. Already a week and she misses the gunshots, fear and adrenaline.

"Back off, buddy," Selina hears herself say. Her hand is resting on the man's chest, and she stares him down. She's standing in between the policeman and the angry guy. Everyone looks at the new interloper.

"Who the hell are you? Get your hand off of me," the man spits out, and he roughly tries to pry Selina's hand off his chest.

Alright, now she's pissed.

In three seconds flat, she yanks his arm and twists his wrist to the side. The man yelps, and Selina holds his wrist in a painful position. Leaning down, Selina sneers, "I told you to back off, didn't I?"

"You dumb bitch," the man grits. Quickly and unfortunately, Selina notices his family anxiously standing back, and there are even more people paying attention.

"I wouldn't necessary call myself dumb," she retorts. Selina is well aware of the situation, and she turns around desperately, searching for any sign of backup from the officers. What the hell did she just do? She exposed herself in front of a hundred people, not to mention several officers. For the first time in a long time, she's nervous.

The officer who tried to calm the man down before Selina arrived nods at her and walks forward. "Everyone, please pay attention. We're doing background checks because we don't want any escaped criminals leaving Gotham. However, we want the good citizens of Gotham to leave. But we're begging you, we _need_ you to stay calm." He glances around and toys with his belt. "Please."

A miracle occurs – people go back to their cars, and the angry annoying man leaves also (all the while giving her a scathing look). Her heart rate slows down; no one arrests her, and Selina is left standing all by herself. "We had it under control."

Selina turns sees the helpful policeman smiling at her. He's cute, with curly blonde hair and a boyish charm. "It didn't seem like it."

"I don't think breaking someone's wrist actually helps." He steps a little in front of her and says, "My name's Rick." His blue eyes twinkle.

Selina stays quiet. Selina is about to give a smart response before she hears a faint "Miss Kyle, what a surprise."

Damn it, Gordon's here. He comes in between Rick and Selina, and pats Rick on the shoulder. "You did a fine job there, son. If you don't mind, I need to speak with Miss Kyle for a moment."

Rick gives a polite nod, but as he's leaving he leans forward and whispers to Selina, "Good day, Miss Kyle." She glances at him for a moment, then turns her attention to Gordon. She doesn't need pesky officers poking around in her business.

"That man had every reason to get –"

"I'm not here to berate you, Miss Kyle."

"Ah."

Gordon smiles slightly and says, "I was simply wondering if you thought about the job offer."

She takes a hard look at him, and doesn't fail to see the bags under his eyes, nor the way his face has lost much of its color. "I have."

"And?" he asks hopefully.

Selina takes a deep breath. She can say no, walk away, and leave Gotham right after Bruce leaves. Or, she can stop being a coward and keep her promise to Bruce, and be a better person. Her jaw tightens and she answers, "Yes. I'll do it." _Yes, I'll absolutely track down Crane and the Joker because I'm a fucking idiot_.

A wave of relief washes over Gordon; he's terribly transparent. "That's," Gordon laughs happily, "fantastic. When do you begin–"

"I have some conditions," she says sharply.

Gordon's happy face immediately shuts down. "And they are . . .?"

Selina takes in her surroundings and says, "First, I need to escape – for after. I need a new name, passport, Social Security number, birth certificate."

The Commissioner peers at her skeptically. "It will take some time to acquire such items. How long do you think this assignment will take?"

"Honestly, I have no idea. I don't have the same amount of technology and resources to conduct my research," she explains. "And, it doesn't help that half the city is destroyed. It'll be harder to navigate the rougher parts of town."

Gordon shakes his head in understanding. "I can offer you our computer and databases, if you like. But I must warn you, we don't have as much electricity as we would like, so you'll have to carefully pick and choose when you plan to investigate."

"Thank you."

"And what are the other conditions?"

Selina chews on the inside of her cheek before saying, "I do this on my own terms. Don't send your minions to check up on me, and when I use your databases I want an unrestricted access. No one bothers me, no one even comes _near_ me. Understood?"

The Commissioner nods. "It will all be taken care of."

She can't believe he acquiesced to everything she wanted. Maybe this will be much easier than she previously thought. Selina begins to walk away, but once again reminds Gordon, "Remember: no bothering!"

Gordon watches Selina until she's a mere dot in the middle of the street, and hopes she can be the person he needs her to be. She's not Batman, but she's the only person closest to him. He doesn't want to be dependent on another masked crusader, but he has _no choice_.

* * *

Selina comes home and finds Bruce standing in her kitchen, drinking some water. This is a surprise. He's wearing one of the shirts Jen got him and a pair of jeans. He looks good, healthy. "Finally realized you needed to get out of bed?" She dumps her coat on the sofa she's been sleeping on and strides into the kitchen. She leans against the wall and smirks. It's disconcerting seeing him in such a casual environment.

He gives a tiny smile. "Your bed is very comfortable."

"Yeah, well, I can't blame you."

Silence envelopes them, but it's relaxed. She's never felt the need to speak in front of Bruce, unless she needs to. The fact that he's awake, alive and well is enough for her. But one day, this will end and she doesn't know what to do after. Sure, she plans on helping Gordon out, but Bruce can't – won't – stay here forever. As odd as it seems, she's gotten used to his presence.

"When do you plan on leaving?"

Bruce's eyes snap up to her, and he sets the glass of water on the counter. Then, he gazes off, his stare intense. "I don't think I'm ready to leave yet."

Selina's puzzled. "What do you mean? You know they're going to close the borders in a week's time." She heard this certain piece of information when she was leaving the tunnel, and overheard a few officers talking about closing certain areas. They, and the new mayor, didn't want to announce this in fear of having a mass, uncontrollable exodus. Everything is kept quiet for now.

Bruce peers at his feet and breathes deeply. He looks up at her, literally staring at her soul. It makes her antsy. "Selina, the city is . . . destroyed. I can't just _leave_."

She can't believe what she's hearing. "You've got to be kidding me. You do know the entire world thinks you're dead, right? So why, in your right mind, would you think about going back?" Selina's frankly pissed off, and she continues her tirade. "You – you're one of those girls who are razor thin, but constantly complain they're fat. And it's not because they need someone to shower them with compliments. It's because they genuinely believe they _are_ fat."

"What does that have to do with me?"

Groaning, Selina spews out, "You need to wake up and smell the roses, Bruce! It's over. It's over for you." She lowers her voice and says, "As Batman you're not a _man_. Batman is a symbol. But the person behind Batman is human. Flesh." Selina throws her hands in the air and sighs. "You've done your part. Why can't you realize it's time to retire? This city isn't as helpless as you believe it to be. Give them a chance."

Now it's _un_comfortably silent. Part of the reason why she's angry is due to the fact that Bruce really does need to leave. He's done so much, and his final sacrifice solidified his exit from Gotham. The city can take care of itself. Not to mention, Selina doesn't want him around when she's sweeping the streets of Gotham. She doesn't want him to watch and have high hopes for her. Selina's breathing reduces and she sizes up, getting ready to hear another one of Bruce's lame excuses.

"You're right."

He purses his lips in very Wayne-like manner, and gives a curt nod. She can tell he's visibly shaken from the thought, but how can he not realize he can no longer come back? The world would know, and Bruce wouldn't be able to live the life he should get to live.

He hobbles back to her room, and her tiny apartment suddenly feels _so_ empty.

* * *

They haven't talked about Bruce's departure again, but Selina sees him trying to do some exercises here and there. She can tell he's still hurting, but every day they remove his bandages and put the herbal medication on. The swelling has gone down, and Selina would like to believe it's due to her remedy.

Much of the city has emptied. In two days' time, it'll be a ghost town once the borders are closed. As of now, Selina is standing in Jen's apartment with a bag in her hand. Jen's running around trying to find some snacks for both them; she doesn't know why Jen bothers. "So, like, Jeff wants to go and I was like 'Uh, we have nowhere to go.'"

"Jen."

"Yeah?" she curiously looks at Selina, and noticing how quiet she is, Jen's face immediately falls down. "Did something happen? Are you OK?"

Selina brushes her off. "I'm fine, but . . . you should go with Jeff. Really. They're closing the borders in two days, and this is your only chance to leave."

Jen dumbly looks at her. She scoffs and says, "Are you kicking me out of Gotham or something? I like it here." Selina raises an eyebrow. "I do. It's home. I have nowhere to go –"

"Jen!" Selina yells out. "Go. Get the hell out of here. There's nothing for you." She strides forward and shoves the bag to her. "There's eight thousand dollars in here. Take it and _go_."

Her friend is apprehensive. Her lips quiver and her eyes are instantly wet. _God, not now_. "I don't . . . I don't know a place I can go to –"

"Yes you do, Jen. Anywhere. New York, L.A., hell even Seattle. Just _leave_. You deserve much more."

Jen is about to her open her mouth, but Selina gives her a stern glare. She takes a step backwards and says, "Promise me you won't get stuck making a living like me, alright? Don't let anyone walk over you, and remember all the moves I taught you." Jen shakes her head vehemently, and a couple of tears fall down. "And stop crying," she snaps. "It makes you weak. Stay strong, Jen.

"Stay strong for the both of us."

* * *

Selina's tired physically and emotionally drained. All she wants to do is tumble back to her bed and sleep. Of course, Bruce is inhabiting her bed, and while he's insisted he doesn't need it, Selina refuses to make Bruce sleep on the couch. He has to have enough strength to get out here.

It's nighttime now; the city is dark as usual, but when she comes inside all of the candles are lit. Knowing that Bruce did it makes it seem much more romantic than it really is. Sighing, she throws her coat on the sofa and kicks her shoes to the side. She goes towards her bedroom and finds it extremely bright. A bunch of candles are burning, and Bruce is sitting up, a deck of cards splayed about on the bed.

It appears he's playing Match by himself.

She wants to laugh, but Selina can't blame him. They're both bored. "Do you mind if I join?"

Bruce glances up and smiles. "Of course not. The least I can do is allow you to play a card game with me."

She crawls up the bed, careful not to cause too much movement. Much to her delight, he doesn't wince, so it must mean he's not hurting a lot. "How long have you been playing by yourself?" She collects the cards, shuffles it, and starts spreading it on the bed.

"Right after you left," Bruce explains. "You don't have very many things to entertain oneself," he notes."

"There's not a lot of time for that," she says a little coldly. Clearing her throat, Selina asks, "Do you want to go first?"

He shakes his head. "Ladies first."

"Why, thank you."

Selina takes a long peek at him, and notices for the first time how relaxed he seems. He's gotten much stronger these past two weeks, and he's been nothing but cooperative with Selina. They haven't talked about anything in particular, for which she's grateful. He doesn't push her, and she doesn't push him. She's going to miss him. There, she said it.

Selina picks up a five of hearts, and searches for its partner. She finally chooses one all the way on the other side, only to find it's a six of hearts. "Damn," she mutters under her breath.

"Better luck next time," Bruce teases. He chooses a card nearest to him, and another one right on top of it. He flips the cards over, only to reveal that they're the same. He grins boyishly, and Selina's heart skips a beat.

"You cheated." It's something she would do, not necessarily Bruce.

He chuckles light heartedly. "I wouldn't call it cheating. Just superior x-ray vision."

Selina laughs out real loud, and she can literally feel every single burden fall off her shoulders. "Not only are you Batman, but you're secretly Superman."

"Indeed." Bruce grins and gathers up another card and searches for its mate, only to pick the wrong one.

"Well, look at that – seems like you don't have x-ray vision," Selina teases.

He shrugs. "It appears I can't fool you," Bruce responds casually. "Your turn."

Selina flips over a card nearest to her, and her heart stops. She lifts it up and scrutinizes it, a rush of emotions threatening to destroy the game. The bells, outfit, and color of the Joker makes her want to vomit, but before she knows it, she unexpectedly feels calm. Calm before the storm.

"Something wrong with the picture?" Bruce questions. Selina glances up at him, and in that split second he immediately realizes what kind of card is in her hand. He stays silent and looks down at the bed, his jaw tightening. She pretends it's not the Joker card.

Selina inhales and says, "No, nothing. I'll find the matching one."

And she does.

* * *

Today is the day. It's ten at night, the entire city is gone, and it's cold as it can be. The air is frigid, Jen's officially out of Gotham, and Bruce is leaving. Selina gave him one of her duffle bags, stuffed as many canned foods she could, and handed him the herbal medication just in case. And for good measure, she also stuffed five hundred dollars at the bottom of the bag. She's been feeling awfully generous lately.

They're standing in front of the fire escape; they've been this way for a good four minutes. Bruce is all bundled up with a mixture of her scarves, gloves, and a jacket Jen got from Macy's. She's stalling. It's an odd situation, because this time it's not a final goodbye. Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. At least he's not at the edge of death, and for some reason it makes her all sorts of relieved.

"Try not to get yourself stabbed on the way out," Selina adds.

Bruce gives her a half-smile and replies with a quiet "Thank you." He's not saying thanks for the advice, but thanks for coming back and keeping him alive. Selina has no clue how he can be so forgiving after everything she did to him.

She can't handle the enormity of his thanks, so she brushes it aside and says sarcastically, "Don't get overbearing just because you're leaving."

He can see through her bluff, but Bruce pretends he doesn't notice. His feet are still planted on the floor, right in front of the fire escape. The silence is thick and palpable. She wants him to go. She doesn't want him to go.

"Come with me," Bruce whispers. Her eyes snap up to his, slightly surprised he would still ask her after all this time. His dark eyes plead, and he seems genuine about his offer.

Looking down at her feet, Selina answers, "I can't. Not now." _Not when I have to clean up my mistakes_. She crosses her arms over her chest, a self-defense mechanism. She can't let him know she's going to try and repay her debt. She can't let him know how crappy she feels on a daily basis.

"OK."

Bruce edges towards the window, and Selina can't help but ask, "Will I . . . Will we cross paths one day?"

He halts, stares and stares, and after an eternity his mouth begins to move. Something flickers in his eyes, and within a moment's notice Bruce is inching closer towards Selina. Her breathing stops and her heart pumps louder and faster. He leans forward, his heat and presence causing her to become extremely dizzy. He peers at her, then turns his head to the side, pressing a soft kiss on her cheek. Selina instantly warms up and closes her eyes. He hovers there, his face brushing against her, and whispers, "_Prima o poi._"

Her eyes are still closed when he leans back, lifts up the window, and climbs onto the fire escape. A gust of cold air hits her, and once she opens them Bruce is long gone, the feeling of his lips still lingering on her cheek.

Despite the cold, she is oh so warm, and _hope_ etches onto her skin. Hope that one day, she will make him proud. Hope that one day, she will see him. Hope that one day, it will all work out.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Blake's in da house! Woo hoo! **

**Thank you all so much for the kind words! They really mean a lot, and they keep me going. I'm really excited about this story, and it's great to see other folks excited too. I hope I deliver. **

**I changed the rating to M because I feel the language isn't T material. Plus, there will be violence and stuff, so I don't want people to get mad when they start seeing those things on a T rated fic. **

**Anyway, forgive me for any mistakes, and as always, reviews are greatly appreciated.**

* * *

**PART 2**

For the first time in a long time, she sits.

She sits because she has time to, and she sits because she has to think. To repent. To admit her mistakes. To wonder why she's doing this. And it sucks sitting down and thinking, because her ass is becoming number by the second, but she can't move. She's busy thinking _and _sitting.

Bruce is gone. Probably for good. She already misses him, because even though they hardly spoke, they fit like a puzzle. He kept quiet when she needed quiet, and Selina kept badgering when he needed to be badgered. She misses his quiet company, although he made her feel like shit on a daily basis. He was a constant presence in her life from the moment she met him, all those months ago. For some odd reason, he stood by her side, as if everything she did to him was nothing more than a minor hiccup.

See, when Selina sent Bruce to Bane, she didn't feel guilty because she sent Bruce Wayne_ – _a _rich _individual_ – _to the mercenary. She felt guilty because she was utterly _wrong_ about a person. She was wrong about Bruce, she was wrong about Batman. And because she was a cruel, jealous idiot, she ruined the man for forever. Selina let her judgments of the wealthy and her selfishness get in the way, causing irreplaceable damage. To stand back and watch Batman get crushed was nothing short of heartbreaking. To stand back and watch him get his brains torn to pieces . . .

She has a really big debt to pay.

This whole Operation Owing Bruce is something she has to do for herself. She's not OK with sitting back and watching her mistakes out in the open. As a con artist, as a burglar, Selina doesn't like loose ends. She's going to sweep Gotham clean because that's what she needs to do in order to secure her new life, her new identity.

And she wants to be a better person, not because she wants to be someone else, but so she and Bruce can be equals. It's very easy to feel down and crappy when there's a huge gap between two people, in terms of wealth, morality, and overall goodness. So Selina is going to do this thing because she wants to.

All the while _maybe_ getting Bruce to forgive her.

She's still a selfish bitch, but she's not a _mean_ selfish bitch.

* * *

Four days after Bruce has left and Gotham is still the same. Selina thought much of the city would be gone, but to her annoyance much of the middle and lower class families have stayed behind, while the former wealthy have fled. Typical rich jerks.

She's near Midtown, roaming the streets and attempting to dodge any sort of rubble. Gordon's task is weighing heavily in her mind. Truth be told, Selina's unsure of how to carry out this plan. It's different; Gotham is different, and she can't conduct usual business the same way as before. There's no sign of any malicious activity, but a fire is brewing. She can smell it.

Or maybe it's her own paranoia getting to her.

This is an odd job. She's never searched for someone. She's always searched for some_thing_. Plus, Selina has never worked with the police. She was – is – on the opposite side of the law. If anything goes wrong, Selina will have nowhere to run. Gordon can't turn a blind eye all the time, and at some point, he might have to turn her in if the job goes on for too long. Sadly enough, the clean slate hasn't been used; what she's waiting for, she doesn't know. Perhaps she'll use it as a Job Well Done present after she's finished with this task. Now_ that's_ something to look forward to.

Selina continues walking for blocks on end, and suddenly she reaches the bridge that leads to the Narrows. Ten years ago, when Batman first saved the day, the city government declared the Project Renewal Act. The city spent millions of dollars rebuilding the Narrows, tearing down old shackles and creating better housing with better groundwork. The area, after the Dent Act, became mostly clean and safe, much to everyone's surprise. This place still has the most crime, though, but much less compared to ten years prior.

The Narrows used to be the breeding ground for mobsters and their thugs, so she heads out to the one place she absolutely detests. Her kitten heels clack on the surface, rocks and rubble nearly causing her to fall down several times. On numerous occasions, she wonders why she bothers with them. It's not as if every heel has a set of blades to protect her.

Usually, Selina has a cover and roams the area for two to three weeks, max. Staying in one "destination point" (a name she's dubbed for targets) means a bigger chance of getting caught. Too many people know her here. Many might be dead, but she has a few friends in the Narrows and she needs their help. Selina continues walking, and she finds neighbors taking out brooms and clearing the dirt. The moment jars her; it's unsettling to see people pick up the pieces.

But maybe it's high time to start.

Selina turns left, then right, and walks into the streets where all the shops are at. Of course, since the Narrows is a rundown place despite Project Renewal, only convenient stores, cigar shops, and a few Goodwills are here. The only damage done here, apparently, came from the blasts right after Bane took down the football stadium. Other than that, much of the area is kept intact. _Makes sense_, Selina muses. _No one gives a shit about the poor and their belongings_.

Just as she's about step into one of the cigar stores, she sees a shadow lurking in the corner. Her heart stops, then restarts, and Selina's hands clench. She swallows and evens out her breathing. Her arms begin to shake from adrenaline, and before she knows it, her feet are dragging her there. Selina takes small steps, careful not to make any noise. As she slowly sticks her head out, Selina sees a lanky guy with black hair and dark eyebrows pulled together in the middle.

"Well, well, well. Look who we have here." She steps forward and appears right in front of John Blake. She tries to keep her face as neutral as possible, but Selina can feel her facial muscles turn into a smug expression. She can't help it.

He flinches; clearly he didn't know she was here. "I'm not talking to you." Blake adjusts his coat and his eyes flitter about. He's tense.

"Why not? We're _such_ good friends, aren't we?" Selina smirks. He's nervous and she'll do anything to exploit it. There's a reason why he's here, and it's not due to the fact he's sightseeing. Something's amiss.

"No, we're not. And we never will be." Blake moves away from the shadows, and Selina doesn't fail to notice the absence of his police badge. So he's undercover, apparently. "What are you doing here anyway? Getting ready to steal something?"

Selina makes a rude sound. "I'm offended. Not only did you send me to Blackgate, you're the same judgmental prick from five months ago."

"I was doing my job."

"And in this case, I'm doing mine by helping the good citizens of Gotham sweeping the streets clean." The truth, funnily enough. Tilting her head to the side, Selina asks, "What's yours, Rookie?"

Blake gives a tight, uncaring smile and responds, "Same."

She sizes him up and watches John carefully. His face is as stoic as possible; Selina's surprised. Maybe he's not as transparent as she thought he was. But a certain . . . spark is missing from his eyes. It's gone. Blake doesn't look like the Blake from five months ago. And for a split second, she feels bad for him. Perhaps the Occupation was a little _too_ tough on the fella.

"I doubt it." Blake begins to open his mouth in protest before she adds, "Well, I have places to be . . . People to steal from." Selina starts walking away and says, "See you around."

Selina tries to shake off a certain feeling, but it seems like she'll be seeing Mr. Blake much more often.

* * *

After twenty minutes of roaming in and out of streets, Selina finally reaches Ray's Autobody, an auto mechanic shop where her friend and beholder of all of Gotham's secrets – Ray – lives and makes his living. He's an older man in his middle fifties, but unlike the rest of Gotham, he was never fully involved with the mob. He stood well outside of it, yet he had an uncanny ability to know everything. Ray had assisted GPD several times, as well as getting hefty sums from established mob bosses.

She enters the shop, finding it odd that the door is unlocked, and steps inside. The garage is empty of cars, and the front desk is filled with paper work from months ago. There's dust and grime on the windows. Generally Ray would keep it spotlessly clean, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

"Ray?" Selina calls out. She stays at her spot, knowing if she takes one step closer to the stairs leading up to his office, he'll come out with his shotgun.

Moments later, the door opens and she smiles. "Selina!" His belly has diminished considerably, and despite the lack of food in recent months, he seems healthy. Ray leaps down the stairs with a big grin on his face. "It's good to see you!"

He's a bit of a hugger, so Selina stands back and shoves her hands in her pockets. "Likewise."

Ray sighs and yank his pants. He still reeks of oil and metal, but for some reason it makes her feel at home. "Even after five months of all that shit, you still won't accept a hug from me? I knew you were cold, but I didn't think _that_ cold." He winks.

Smiling, Selina says, "What can I say? The city's done a number on me."

"I think the city's done a number on everyone," Ray adds sadly. Clasping his hands together he says, "So. Are you here for business or pleasure?"

He knows her so well. As much as Selina would like to catch up, she has a job to do. "For now: business."

He frowns. "It's only been two weeks since the Bane douche. People causing you some trouble already?" he asks as he starts climbing the stairs. Selina follows after him, unsure of whether or not she should spill the beans. Although Ray couldn't keep a secret for the life of him, he somehow kept his mouth shut for her. She likes to think it's because he cares about Selina.

Instead she coyly replies, "Let's just say my client's hit list is a bit different from the other ones I've dealt with.

They walk inside Ray's office, and it has Gotham Rogues memorabilia scattered all over the walls. It's cramped and filled with boxes, but he has a cozy set of chairs, and gestures for Selina to sit down as he relaxes behind his desk. The lights are on also; his Rogues lamp is right next to her, causing Selina's eyes to burn from its brightness. "What are you looking for then?"

"You could start off with the basics."

Ray shrugs and says, "Heard the National Guard are coming in, with a few Marines here and there. Mayor Townsend's a scared pussy and doesn't want another revolution."

Selina's interest piques. "Is that so?"

"Hmm mm. People don't want to go back to the way things were. They want equality, a chance to live in Uptown, and get the hell out of the Narrows. Some dumb motherfuckers are planning on taking on the police. I hope they get their asses kicked. They're stupid."

Selina cringes at his word usage; she forgot how much he used to swear. "Would they prefer to be incinerated from a nuclear blast?"

Ray sighs and utters, "Beats me."

A moment of silence envelops them. "Well," Selina begins, "what else?"

He shrugs. "That's it. Although, Vince wants to adopt a baby," he states sheepishly.

A wave of excitement rushes through her. "Ray, that's fantastic! I didn't know you two were planning on expanding the broad." Vince and Ray, albeit not married, are perhaps Selina's favorite couple. They're not obnoxiously loud, nor boisterous – they're simply two people in love.

"Eh . . . I don't want to bring someone into our life that's filled with gang bangers, GPD, and your average secrets. Does it make me a terrible person to enjoy my line of work?"

Selina's eyes snap up to his, and she finds him looking at her honestly. "I enjoy mine." _Somewhat._

"At any rate, no mother will be willing to send their kid to Gotham for years. In the meantime, I'll hang tight and go back to my usual trade," he says with a grin on his face.

She laughs tiredly. "I should go." She gets up, then questions, "Are you sure nothing unusual is going on?"

Scoffing, Ray replies, "I'm sure. People are still trying to understand how the hell they managed to stay alive before Batman came along, and women are trying to figure out how they weren't raped on a daily fucking business. It's a miracle Bane's men were celibate . . . or gay. It could've been ugly. Uglier," he corrects himself.

Selina hums in agreement, then sternly adds, "If you hear anything, let me know. I mean it."

"Of course. Take care of yourself, kid." As she starts to walk away, Selina gives Ray a halfhearted wave before shutting the door behind her. The sun is going down now, and Selina wants to head back before the weirdo citizens come out to play. She's not in the mood to fight right now, let alone ruining her clothes.

Come to think of it, she's not in the mood to do any of this. It's what she gets for agreeing, then.

The lack of information was expected. It's only been two weeks and four days, so naturally there wouldn't be any rumblings going on. But if Gordon wants her to catch Crane and the Joker, then it must mean something's bound to occur. And she can't let it happen, because well, she doesn't like loose ends.

* * *

True to Ray's word, the National Guard went through Gotham with the help of the Marines. The electricity is mostly back on; the mayor is getting as many workers as he can to start repairing the city. There's still irreplaceable damage, but at least streets have been cleared. Things are shaping up. The federal government is stepping in as well, providing Gotham with billions of dollars to repair the broken infrastructure and provide programs to rebuild. Unfortunately, there are hundreds of news outlets teeming the city. They're a nuisance.

Therefore, she doesn't do anything for nearly a week. Selina just sits, sleeps, and finally resorts to drinking the only wine bottles in her cabinet. Drinking has never been her strong point; since she rarely consumes any alcoholic beverage, Selina's tolerance level is extremely low. She prefers to stay sober when she can, and the only times she ever drank was to keep appearances up.

Tonight, however, she's tipsy. And she doesn't mind at all.

It's a peculiar feeling. She feels light and airy. There's a strange tingling sensation on the tips of her fingers and she's warm. Warm and giddy, but she can't do anything about the giddiness, and then suddenly she starts thinking about regrets, and she _really_ doesn't want to go on that route and –

Ugh, the world is such a downer. Lame, pathetic, and filled with assholes. Selina takes a swing from the bottle and relaxes on her couch. She really wishes someone was here. She doesn't want a guy to mess with her, nor some annoying Jen wannabe . . . She just wants someone to drink with.

Fine. She wants Bruce here.

Selina's pretty sure Bruce hardly drinks, despite all the reports in the tabloids. It seems very uncharacteristic of him to do so. But Selina wants him to sit next to her, speak in that calm voice of his, and tell her it'll all be OK. Because despite almost killing him, she knows Bruce doesn't hate her as much as she would like him to. It's making her drown in confusion and emotions, and despite doing the task Gordon set out for her – and her sense of making things right – she's struggling. Perhaps once she starts her job it'll be like old times. She's making it a big deal for no reason.

Closing her eyes, Selina sighs and rests her head on the sofa, her hand loosely holding the cheap wine bottle. Without warning, an image of Bruce flits across her mind. Selina's somewhat shocked at the turn of events. Clearly she should never drink. Ever.

But she does it again – shutting her eyes – and tries to recall what Bruce looks like. From the way his dark hair slightly curls at the bottom, to the way his thin lips pout when he speaks. Her mind traces the line of his abs and how his arms are muscled, but not in an overly dramatic way. He's just strong.

She doesn't miss the wrinkles lining his face, and thinks he ought to get some creams while he's traveling about. He's got a bit of a Mediterranean look to him with his dark hair and slightly tan skin. Selina likes it. She takes a moment to stare at his eyes, little black orbs with such pain behind them. Bruce can smile all he wants but no one can ever cover grief and heartache.

He whispers that one phrase and Selina can't help but shiver.

Her eyes snap open at that moment. Disdainfully, she takes a long look at the bottle and wonders maybe there's a hallucinogen in it. It wouldn't surprise her.

And she really ought to stop thinking about Bruce . . . in that sort of way.

* * *

Another two weeks past and not a peep. There were some rumblings among Gothamites, as Ray predicted, but as soon as the Army came in – with the help of the National Guard – they were wiped away. She feels bad for them, though. For five months everyone was, in a sense, equal. To go back to the previous order meant living the lowlife and having to pay taxes, something – in Selina's mind – a person should _not_ go through.

She knows some people are ashamed they believed in Bane's revolution. They pretend they hated him, but she knows better. They regret it. They thought he was a savior. They thought Bane meant a new world order. They thought they could rise up without spending thousands of dollars and going broke. And Selina doesn't blame them, because she believes everyone should get a chance. Boy, Bane was _convincing_.

Without order, there is chaos. And with chaos comes destruction. Ironically, there needs to be a push-pull factor. There is a push to achieve order when chaos ensues, and a pull to reverse ourselves when there is too _much_ order. And since there was too much order, the poor were – are – subjected to terrible conditions, the butt of every Republican's joke, and unable to live the life they want. Selina gets it. All of it, because she went through it. She still is.

But you see, Bane never cared for them. He exploited them. He took advantage of their troubles, and nearly killed everyone. When someone makes a fool of you, you begin to hate yourself for believing them.

Selina made a fool out of Bruce when she sent him to Bane. _She_ regrets it. Terribly. Although Bruce may not hate Selina a whole bunch, there is a part of him that does. There has to be. It would be inhuman for him not to. And for a quick second, Selina wishes he doesn't hate her at all. Not even for a bit.

* * *

Finally out of her stupor, Selina decides to head out to MCU and gather a few items. Since she can't necessarily get out and openly search for The Joker and Dr. Crane, she has to go back and get whatever files the force has on them, as well as in Arkham Asylum.

The building is somewhat empty, but there are cops lurking in and out of MCU. She can't just waltz in and browse several files without getting her ass sent to jail for no reason. Even though Gordon said she could use the computers, Selina has a feeling she's going to run into trouble. Selina stays behind and leans against the wall, waiting for an opportunity to go inside. She watches every movement and hopes she won't have to wait so long.

All of sudden, Selina sees the same officer from three weeks ago, the one who helped calm down the crowd in front of the tunnel. He's nursing a cup of coffee and hugs his coat even tighter around him. This is her chance.

"Hello handsome."

He jerks a little and looks up at Selina in surprise. "Miss . . . Kyle," he greets. Rick looks around and asks, "What brings you here?"

"I thought perhaps you could give me a quick tour." Selina pointedly glances at the building.

Rick raises an eyebrow. "I know who you are." He takes a sip from his cup of coffee.

Selina cocks her head to the side. "Oh?"

"Hmm. Cat burglar, jewel thief . . . You have an impressive resume, Selina."

"I try not to show off." Damn. Now there's no way she'll be able to get inside.

The officer sighs and says, "You know, I might be able to help. If you let me."

Selina stares at him warily She _could_ use a friend in the police department; Gordon kind of counts, but Blake is a massive no-no. Rick seems trustworthy. Selina's particularly good at reading people (minus reading Bruce), and she has a feeling Rick would assist her with no strings attached. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, Selina finally answers, "I need all files, records – anything – on Dr. Jonathan Crane and the Joker."

Rick's eyes bulge out a bit. "Seriously? Is that why Gordon wanted to speak with you?" He seems genuinely excited, oddly enough. "Are you going to track them down or –"

"Let's get one thing straight," Selina bites out. "Under _no_ circumstances are you allowed to presume anything." She steps closer and lowly adds, "Your job is to keep quiet. Got it?" She stares at Rick's blue, worried eyes. He should be scared.

He swallows thickly then says, "OK . . . I mean, if you're letting me help you, you can't fault me for asking questions and jumping to conclusions –"

"Take me inside."

"Sounds good."

* * *

"Luckily for you, we made copies of their files before everything was digitized. Any updates since their arrests are most likely on the databases," Rick explains. They're in a huge room filled with filing cabinets and cardboard boxes. It's cold and silent in here, minus the sounds of their collective breathing and the clacking of Selina's heels. As of now, they're roaming aisles and searching for documents. "Not to mention, I just so happen to have access _and_ know where everything's at," he adds with a wink.

Rick stops in front of a box and takes it out. _Crane, Jonathan_ is written in permanent marker, and an unknown feeling courses through her. Things are getting real. It's happening. And in a few months' time, it'll all be over. Maybe. Grunting, Rick puts the box down and notes, "It's heavy. But, everything should be in there."

Selina takes a long glance at it, then briskly orders, "Give me the other box."

He blows out a breath. "Well jeez." He starts walking away and says, "Follow me."

They wind through a couple more aisles, and Selina immediately recognizes famous mob bosses on each box. It appears this top secret room is for high profile cases, then. At the end of the aisles Selina sees two boxes with papers jammed inside. The closer they get, the more papers seemed to be shoved in each box. _Joker, The_ is written on both boxes. After all their research, they still weren't able to figure out his real name.

Rick pulls out both cases with an _umph_ and dramatically sighs. "Here you go. Everything you ever need to get that S.O.B."

Looking at the boxes Selina muses, "Haven't heard that phrase in a while – S.O.B. Afraid of saying what it actually means, Officer?"

"Not really. I simply don't want to appear disrespectful in front of a lady like you," he replies, and tips an invisible hat towards her.

Snorting, Selina says, "Honey, I'm far from being a lady."

"My mistake. Mind showing me what you mean?" Rick teases.

Rolling her eyes at his blatant flirting, Selina tartly responds, "I do."

She hears him mutter a faint "Ouch" and she smiles slightly. Poor guy. "It's time I head out, Rick. Carry these for me, will you?" Selina instructs. He frowns a little and suddenly leaves her side. "Where are you going?" she asks. Did he seriously just leave without her?

Out of the blue, Selina hears some metal scrapping and footsteps coming her way. A burst of adrenaline bites her, but in a moment's notice it's Rick coming back with a trolley. Selina's heart rate slows immediately. She really needs to stop having her guard up at the most random times. But, on several occasions, her guard has helped her. Old habits die hard.

He already put Crane's box on it, and he begins putting the Joker's files on top. Once he's done, Rick sarcastically asks, "Did you seriously think I would carry these for you? You must really overestimate my abilities."

Selina calms down and replies, "I just thought you were _man_ enough to carry them for me."

"I think you're hell-bent on making me feel like a poor excuse of a man," Rick says sadly. He begins pulling the cart away, but Selina sees a tiny smirk on his lips. He's a very easygoing man, Rick. She's not one to have many friends or acquaintances, but oddly enough she likes him. He has a sense of ease surrounding him wherever he goes. The two of them get into the elevator and it's quiet. Thankfully, Rick keeps his mouth shut as he jovially grabs onto the trolley. He's way too bubbly for Selina, but he has been extremely helpful. Plus, she has a feeling he's a keeper. Someone she can trust.

She checks her watch and sees that it's half past four, meaning if she wants to visit Arkham she should wait till tomorrow. Idiots Selina could handle, but the mentally insane are a different story in the night. Of course, Crane and the Joker are way past saving, but when it comes down to it, they are sane in some weird, twisted fashion.

The elevator opens on the main floor, and Rick directs her out from the front. Selina doesn't want to leave this way in fear of someone noticing her, but there aren't many cops around. It's dark out; as much as Selina enjoys the snow, the lack of sun takes a toll on her in small ways. She opens the door for Rick as he pushes the cart along. Once they get outside, Selina says, "I can take it from here."

Rick starts pulling the cart and walking away. "Do you have a car or something?"

She catches up to him and says, "No." Selina snatches the trolley and adds, "I'll take it from here."

Selina stomps away as fast as she can, because although Rick is sweet and cute, he doesn't need to get any closer to her. "C'mon, I'm trying to be a gentleman." He jogs up to her and pleads, "The least I can do is drop these off for you. And in the meantime, we can play 21 Questions."

Rolling her neck in agitation, Selina grounds out, "You really ought to stop bothering me." She turns a corner, and despite the amount of streetlamps that are on her skin prickles. She reduces her speed and swivels her head, searching for any clues that could tip her off. Something is wrong. Someone is in the shadows. She can feel it.

"Or, we could play 21 Questions silently if you –"

"Shut up or I'll cut your tongue out."

Rick's visibly stunned. Selina puts her hand up and signals him to keep quiet, and upon noticing her serious expression, Rick immediately goes into officer mode. She assesses her situation; there are zero alleys from what she can gather, but they just passed a corner. If someone is here, that means they're either behind her or up front. No cars are out, so the likelihood of a group hanging out is slim. If someone's here, it might just be a single guy.

Selina leaves the cart in the middle of the sidewalk and inches forward. Her hands clench, her legs tremble in excitement and adrenaline. Rick is closely behind her, and she hears him unlatch his holster. Good – she could use a gun at this time. They're almost at the end of the block. The silence is palpable, deafening. She swallows, the lack of saliva hurting her throat, and her palms get sweaty. Nothing can ever prepare you for this moment.

She takes one step forward, and suddenly a pair of sneakers comes into view. A man lunges forward with a gun in his hand. He's wearing a ski mask and a tattered coat. "Give me your –"

Selina pounces on him without hesitation. She grabs onto his wrist, spins and elbows him on his nose. He yelps in pain, and soon, Selina bends over slightly to yank on his arm and throw him on the ground. The man hits his head on the pavement, and before he can do anything else, Selina's on top of him, her knee pressed on his groin and her hand stuck on his throat. Temporarily forgetting about Rick, she sees him kick the gun away and stand over both of them.

The man is losing consciousness, but Selina questions him anyway. "Were you planning on mugging us in the middle of the day just when people are up and about? It may be dark out, but honey, it's only four-thirty." The man groans and tries to pry himself away from Selina. She constricts his throat even more and taunts, "If that's the case sweetheart, it may be the dumbest decision in the history of mugging."

She raises a hand and punches him on the side of his face, away from his frontal lobe but near the ear, hoping it'll give him a good headache for a while. He's knocked out instantly. Standing up, Selina brushes the dirt away from her coat, taking a few deep breaths as she does so.

Taking a peek at Rick, she finds his mouth hanging out, the gun in his hand limply hanging on. He stares at the mugger in disbelief. For a brief moment, Selina feels like the coolest person around. She knows he's never seen anything like that, and she's actually proud of her skillsets. "I think we need more people like you in the force," he notes, his words laced with astonishment and awe.

Instead of saying anything, Selina picks up the man's gun and sashays out of there. She dismantles it, throwing the remnants on the ground, and picks up her detective cart. Her heels click on the surface, and in a split second Selina's back to thinking _This could be fun after all_.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sorry for the late update! RL has been crazy. Thanks for your patience and your kind words. **

**I know some of you were kind of bummed out Bruce wasn't in the last chapter, but remember this story is first and foremost about Selina's redemption. You'll see Bruce soon enough. :] **

**Pardon me for any mistakes, because I'm too tired to check LOL**

* * *

Selina swings her right leg over once she opens the window from the fire escape. She's in her suit, decked out with a gun on her hip and night vision goggles firmly resting above her eyes. Once crawling inside the apartment, she shuts the window and asses the bedroom. Clothes are scattered about, as well as canned foods, and Selina spots a few boxers lying about. She wrinkles her nose in distaste.

Quietly, she walks around and tries to find something she can use against Rick. Although he's kept his mouth shut so far, she needs some leverage against him. Just in case he decides to pull a stunt on Selina, she can easily blackmail him. She hopes he can keep his promise, not turn Selina in or spill the beans.

She searches his bedroom first, opening drawers and checking underneath his bed. Her hands run along Rick's walls, attempting to find a hollow area where he might hide something. Softly, she taps her knuckles against the walls but finds nothing. Selina goes back to the drawers, looking to see if there's a secret wood panel which might reveal something underneath. After a few minutes, Selina's empty handed.

Frustrated, Selina goes back to his bed and sticks her hand underneath. Something brushes against her fingers. She grabs onto it, excitement flooding her chest. But once she pulls it out, she finds an extensive porn collection. _Great_. Selina flips through the DVDs, noticing many are girl-on-girl action. Shaking her head, she opens up the cases to see if he would hide anything but it's clean.

It takes her another thirty-eight minutes for Selina to search the rest of his apartment. There are no safes, USBs, or hidden folders. The only thing she can gather is that Rick's a slob, likes a lot of porn, and has an affinity for _The Godfather_. At least there are some people who are genuinely good and have nothing to hide.

For now.

* * *

Papers are scattered about on the living room floor, each separated and divided into different colored sticky-notes. Selina's focused on Crane's files first, since he would be the easiest to handle. Over the course of six hours, Selina's concluded Crane isn't insane – he simply doesn't give a shit. His entire career was ruined and he has nothing to live for. Aside from his fancy meds, of course. She often wonders what pushes a person with money and a stable living to go ahead and get in bed with the Devil. Why would someone, who has everything they want, risk it all for a brush with the law?

At any rate, she doesn't pity Crane. He's still an idiot and a drug dealer.

The electricity has been coming back on, and today is the first day the lights haven't gone out. Sighing, Selina leans against the couch, her legs splayed on the floor. She grabs the remote and unmutes it once she sees Mayor Townsend on screen. After a month and a half of nothing, the mayor is finally giving a press conference. Apparently, estimates say it might be one of the most televised press conferences in American history.

He's a lean man with dark brown hair and exceptionally feminine eyebrows. Either he gets them done or something happened in his gene pool. For a good three minutes, he explains the beginnings of Gotham's demise. Much to Selina's surprise, most of his information is correct. Bane was in the sewers getting ready to destroy Gotham alongside Miranda Tate, and John Dagget was funneling money into his project. He goes onto speak about the stock exchange incident, and Selina's interest piques when Mayor Townsend notes, "Bruce Wayne was most . . . he was not involved in this incident despite his fingerprints at the crime scene." Of course it wasn't his fault. Smiling, Selina fondly remembers how she stole his fingerprints. She did a damn good job, but effectively set the entire Occupation in motion. Her smile instantly turns into a grimace.

"Sources have told me this was a setup by Bane as a way to steal more money and cripple Gotham's economy." She has a feeling, though, Bane only did it to make Bruce piss poor before he destroyed him.

The conference goes on, filled with tid bits of time spent under Bane's regime. He continues, and pleads to the people of Gotham "Bane was not, I repeat, a savior. From the very beginning his intention was to destroy Gotham with the nuclear bomb he stole. Once he removed the bomb from its core, it automatically set a timer. There was no possible way to stop it unless it was plugged back in. Bane knew of its implications, and instead used the 'Trigger Man' as a ruse to rile the citizens of Gotham." Townsend flips a paper and adds, "Had it not been for Batman, Gotham would not be standing here today."

Clearing her throat, Selina gets up and drinks a glass of water. She hears the mayor thank everyone who gave their lives for Gotham, including the Special Forces who were hung, and to all of those who died during the final battle. He gives honorable mentions to the policemen and women who were stuck underground, but completely ignores the Commissioner. Figures.

He finishes his speech by giving a long, drawn out thank you to Batman; he seems genuinely grateful for Bruce's efforts. The press room becomes very quiet but annoyingly enough cameras shutter to life. He says more fancy words laced with another round of thanks. Selina can't help but feel, well, possessive about Bruce. The city doesn't know who the real guy was. They never will. And here's this random person praising a man who he probably believed killed Harvey Dent until a couple of months ago. They don't – and never will – know the real deal.

Once the speech is over reporters begin asking questions. One of them inquires after Gordon, and wonders whether or not he's still the commissioner. The mayor nods and replies, "What Commissioner Gordon has done in the past few months are nothing short of exemplary. Gordon has done a tremendous job in protecting this city. We . . . cannot hold the past against us. We must move on. And yes, he will continue to be Commissioner until he chooses to retire." Selina rolls her eyes because the entire world knows no one else wants to be police commissioner in Gotham, and Gordon is here to save the day.

Questions are asked for another twenty minutes, ranging from what Gotham plans on doing to protects its citizens, the amount of damage, and civilian deaths. But perhaps the most important question involves Bane; Selina raises the volume and listens in carefully. "The mercenary, Bane, was pronounced dead at the scene. It appears an extremely large explosive was thrown at his chest. The damage was extensive. According to witnesses, they say a masked woman was atop a motorcycle and fired straight to Bane, although no one knows who it is."

Unashamedly, Selina's mouth turns upward and a wave of giddiness washes over her.

* * *

Another five days past before Selina ventures out and continues her investigation. Technically, Selina doesn't need to wait for Crane to make a big bad move – he's already guilty of escaping Blackgate and sending countless people to their deaths. The hard part will be weeding him out from hiding and trying not to kill him.

She hasn't spoken to Rick yet, but the force is beyond busy as they attempt to identify those who need to go back into Blackgate, and arrest them before the damage is done. The news outlets say none of the criminals are being read their Miranda Rights, and most escapees are being denied Due Process for the time being. Although the borders are closed, the tunnel is open and a couple of trading docks as well. She suspects Rick is part of tunnel watch since he's particularly good at it.

Arkham Asylum still looks the same without any serious damage to the building. Selina circled the entire building two times already, checking for any security guards or workers. As far as she can tell, no one is outside patrolling the area. She doesn't doubt that the employees haven't even decided to come back to work at such a place. And since many of the patients have escaped, she doubts many give a shit earning minimum wage and having their life hang by a thread every morning at an asylum.

Selina thought about calling Gordon and asking him to give her access to Crane and Joker's files, but she's done these things several times before. In fact, a hundred times before. She doesn't need permission to steal a few things. Selina walks inside Arkham, its tan walls reminding her of vomit and unpleasant memories. It appears she's walking through a back hallway; hopefully, it'll lead her where she needs to be. A certain quietness echoes through the halls, but fear and helplessness lingers alongside it. Selina keeps walking at a rapid pace, only to run into another door and instead find herself face to face with a receptionist.

_Great_. She chews the inside of her cheeks and steps forward into the receptionist area. A glass wall separates outsiders from the workers, and as she looks inside, there are papers and files scattered about. The receptionist relaxes in her chair and drawls, "Can I help you?"

Leaning forward, Selina says, "I need files on Jonathan Crane and the Joker." Selina stuffs a hand inside her purse, and rummages around until she produces a fake MCU employee card, something she created many years ago. Thankfully, its condition is the same from all those years, and Selina looks like she hasn't aged a bit. She slaps the ID against the glass panel and adds, "It's an emergency."

The receptionist, a middle aged woman, stares at it suspiciously before smartly responding, "Hon, I've seen a fair share of MCU cards. This ain't one of them."

_Well_ _shit._ She should've checked with Rick to make sure her card still appeared , Selina pulls out something from her pocket and sticks it over her gloved index finger. Keeping a steady gaze on her, Selina brings her finger over where there are tiny holes so both parties can hear one another. Her steel knife, shaped and sized the same way as a sharp nail would be, traces around and cuts through each tiny circle bit by bit. The sound of metal grinding against glass rings through her ears. Selina stays put, a dangerous smirk slowly forming on her lips. The receptionist watches in horror and sick amazement, but she doesn't call security. She's probably seen much weirder things than this.

Finally, Selina is able to push the glass away from its panel, leaving a gaping hole. The receptionist's hands are on the desk, and within a split second Selina's grabbed onto her, the steel nail digging onto the lady. She yanks on the lady's hand and drags her all the way up to the glass panel. The receptionist's face is pressed against the wall, her eyes bulging out in terror. She tries to fight, but Selina tightens both hands on the lady's arm, wishing there will be bruises. Selina leans forward and whispers, "Give me access to those files _now_. Or you can say _Adios_ to your arm." Over to the side, Selina notices her other hand reaching for something. Selina digs the knife into her arm and calmly adds, "Come to think of it, I might just tear it out piece by piece instead. It's more fun."

Breathing heavily, the secretary nods fervently as a few tears leak to the side. Selina pulls back and haughtily smoothes out her trench coat. "Hurry up," she demands coldly. Selina takes a quick glance on either side, relieved no one is nearby. She keeps her head down, careful to avoid the security cameras. Selina's not too happy that she's being so bold right now, but she has no time to look at the building's blueprints, pretend she's a worker, and sneak her way in.

Suddenly, a loud buzzer is heard, and a side door opens up. Selina swiftly walks in and stops towards the receptionist. She strides to her, and Selina doesn't fail to notice her trembling arms and tears. Sticking her hand out, Selina orders, "Keys." The receptionist hands them to her, which in return Selina promptly asks, "And where would I find these files?"

"Go fuck yourself."

Within a split second, Selina's got her fingers wrapped around the secretary's throat, her face a mere inch away from the lady's. "Do _not_ get smart with me. I'll ask again nicely: Where. Are. The. Files?" She loosens her grip and waits for the receptionist to answer.

"L-level 1, last d-door on the left."

Selina pulls back, smirks, and gestures at the lady's arm. "I would put a Band-Aid on that." She leaves without giving her another glance, and heads straight into the stairwell. Selina jumps down three to four steps at a time, occasionally using the railings as leverage. Finally, she gets to the bottom floor and opens the door. It's completely dark. Selina searches for the light switch; a few light bulbs flicker overhead but effectively burn out. She rolls her eyes in annoyance but ends up taking out a flashlight from her purse.

Walking forward, Selina doesn't fail to notice the smell of mold or sickness. Her heels echo in the hallway, and a sense of dread washes over her. Within a few seconds she's in front of the door, and Selina puts the key inside the lock. It takes her a moment to unlock it, but once she does the door opens slowly and creaks as loud as it can. A gust of cold air hits her. She steps inside.

The flashlight is small and can hardly cover an area the size of a foot, but she trudges on and searches for the files. Thankfully, they're all in alphabetical order, and she quickly finds Crane's folder. It's huge. She sticks it underneath her arm and continues on, almost wishing Rick was here to help her carry them. After winding through several aisles, Selina finally discovers Joker's files. There are three of them, each secured with a huge rubber band. Quickly, Selina gathers the folders, careful not to drop any.

Just as she's about to turn around, she hears a slight movement over to the left.

Her heart stops. Selina swings her flashlight all around but she can't see anyone. She shuts it off, aware if someone really is here she'll have to use extreme measures to go about undetected. She tiptoes forward and strains her ears for any sound. She doesn't hear anything. It's incredibly dark, but her eyes have adjusted somewhat. As far as Selina can tell no one is here.

Still taking precaution, Selina prepares herself for any sort of surprise. Her eyes sweep up to the ceiling; Selina checks to see if the ceiling is made out of panels. Alas, they are not, so escaping from the ceiling won't work. Instead, she steps in and out of aisles to avoid the intruder, but with each passing second she feels like an idiot. Maybe she's going crazy.

After wasting an extra four minutes, Selina heads out to the door and leaves as fast as she can. Once she's back out in the main hallway, she swivels her head right, then left, and secures the files, pulling them close. Just as she's about to step back into the stairwell, something brushes against her foot. She yelps and the folders nearly fall over. Selina sees something skitter across the floor, and an overwhelming urge to have a gun in her hand consumes her. Selina rushes inside the stairwell, clutching the files close. Her heart rate calms down, and no matter what she does, she can't shake the sensation of having something brush against her shoes. But she has a pretty damn good idea what it was.

A mouse of all things.

* * *

Once getting back home, Selina immediately dedicated herself to reading Crane and Joker's psychiatric evaluations. She's fascinated. Extremely fascinated. Both men, in some twisted way, are sane in the truest sense. Crane and the Joker know exactly who they are and why they do the things they do. Their ability to create chaos yet explain exactly _why_ they executed it eludes her. And it all makes sense. There is a reason behind each methodical step. These men are not crazy. Immoral by society's standards? Yes, of course. But insane? Never.

Selina's always underestimated her opponents. Most of the time, her foes have been a rich person. The one time she mistook her target for a mere wealthy jerk was Bane. Selina never met him, but she knew. She knew if she screwed up there was no way in hell she could walk out of Gotham alive. Selina almost died in the process, but being the cunning person she is, Selina sent none other than Bruce Wayne to the mercenary, saved her ass but destroyed Bruce's.

She can't afford to lose herself again. She can't afford to hurt an innocent person. So this time, Selina's going to _under_estimate her opponents, avoid being selfish, and get the job done. She'll finish it thoroughly and effectively, and kill those motherfuckers.

_If _Gordon allows it.

* * *

Selina's out and about today roaming Gotham since she has nothing else to do. There's only so much research she can conduct without feeling trapped. She's a cat; cats need their freedom.

As much as this walk is about clearing her head, Selina's mind keeps drifting off to places she doesn't want to drift off to. Her mind flits from one con job to another: a particularly tricky Italian job in Milan, a notorious French job which got her under Interpol's radar, and of course, Gotham's job. Selina would like to say she's proud of her work (minus the most recent one), but there is a small part of her tired of this bullshit.

She wants to give up. Before, stealing was a cheap thrill. Stealing diamonds, wallets, gold jewelry, literally anything she could get her hands on. Somehow, it moved onto something deeper, darker. It was no longer about the adrenaline rush, a _Fuck you_ to the rich – no, it was about surviving, because surviving meant killing and running from both sides of the law.

It's easy to give up when you're satisfied, Ray once told her. It's true. But Selina has always been different, and unlike the rest of the world, Selina leaves before she can feel _anything, _let alone satisfaction. And this job is too different because she feels _every single thing_. She's been compromised and her guilt is eating her away. These are dangerous territories she's swimming in, and Selina doesn't know if she'll come out like herself – or alive.

When Selina looks up, she sees Rick carrying an AK-47 gingerly in his arms half a block away. She frowns, wondering why he's holding a dangerous gun out in the public like that. Selina crosses the street and jogs up to Rick, and suddenly Selina finds herself opening her mouth to speak to him . . . just because she wants to. _This is odd_.

"What's up, Selina?" Rick casually asks as he slings the rifle over his shoulder. He grins and gestures at the gun. "Precautionary measures."

"I wouldn't have guessed that," Selina says sarcastically. Rick continues to smile, and Selina finds herself actually wanting to hang out with him. Not in a romantic way, but he's so _nice_ and caring and nerdy, and she hasn't spoken to anyone like this in a long time. She wants friendship – she wants the ease.

But her senses come back to her and Selina inquires, "Rick . . . You haven't mentioned anything to anyone about my job, have you?"

He shrugs. "No. Why?"

Selina shakes her head and says, "I've had a few instances where people tried to take advantage of me." She straightens up and closes herself off.

Rick notices her movements and immediately backs away from the topic, supplying "I can assure you, you won't need to worry about me." He tilts his head to the side and smirks, a lock of blonde hair brushing against his forehead.

She peers at him. Can she trust him? Selina's unsure. For all she knows, he might be a psychopath with a charming personality and an affinity for herb mint tea masks. _Screw it_. Selina throws caution in the wind and cautiously says, "Well, I would hate to see you get off the force due to illegal possession of benzoylmethylecgonine underneath your bed."

Selina internally winces. Jesus Christ, she just ruined a perfectly good conversation with a potential friend, and now she's trying to blackmail him. Reiterate _try_. Maybe Rick is a good person and Selina can't move on from the past, but she needs leverage. She has to. It's how she does her jobs.

"What?" Rick glances at her incredulously until realization dawns on him. His eyes harden and he spits out, "Are you trying to blackmail me? Set me up?"

"I'm simply telling you what _could_ happen." Come to think of it, she could easily plant the false evidence in his apartment; in fact, she could drop a good pound of coke and put him in prison for life if need be.

"You mean what could happen if I open my mouth about your assignment," Rick clarifies. He stands a few inches away from her, absolutely disgusted. She feels horrible. He's hurt and offended, and unfortunately Rick knows she could pull it off. As seconds pass, she can't believe she ruined an ally in this fight. Honestly, Rick would have been extremely helpful to her; she's beginning to understand that this was a _very_ big mistake. Selina's way off her game.

Swallowing whatever is inside, she answers with a clipped, "Precisely."

Several seconds pass. The air is still, encompassing every emotion in one small bubble between the two. Rick's face becomes slightly redder and he grits his teeth. "You're a bitch, you know that? You just had to threaten putting coke at my place and get me arrested for something I haven't even _done_." His hand grips on the AK; for a split moment Selina thinks he might try to shoot her.

Selina begins to say, "This isn't . . ."

"Save it." He starts to walk away and coldly adds, "You're not worth my time."

_Shit!_ What did she just do? "Rick," Selina pleads. "Come on. It's simply a cost of doing business!" He continues to walk away at a rapid pace, his head hung low. Soon enough, Selina is standing all by herself in the middle of the street as she asses her current dilemma.

She takes a deep breath. Pushing her emotions aside, she thinks _Whatever. It's a cost of doing business, that's all._

* * *

The shower is currently blasting scalding hot water, burning every inch of Selina's back. This is the first time in months the water hasn't been ice cold, and this is the first time in a long time Selina can luxuriously stay in the shower for more than two minutes. During the Occupation, water was used at a bare minimum; Selina got used to taking showers once a week. It helped that the Occupation happened during wintertime, thus preventing her hair from getting too oily. She scrubs her skin until it's red and washes her hair with a mixture of her remaining shampoo and some soap she picked up. Once Selina's done, she rests her head on the shower wall, the water stinging her eyes as she sags against it.

Selina keeps telling herself she wants to do Gordon's job because she wants to be equal to Bruce. She doesn't want to compare herself to him on a constant basis. She wants the upper hand.

But that's not the case. Bruce is inhuman. He's inhumanly resilient, he's inhumanly caring, and he's inhumanly righteous. And she ruined that. Selina Kyle broke him because she could. No matter what she does, she'll always remember the way his eyes held fear and disappointment when Selina closed the doors in his face. Despite all of it, Bruce believed in her. He believed in her and trusted her enough to hand Selina the Clean Slate and help him out. No one has ever done that – they've never trusted her because she doesn't trust _them_.

Really, Selina is doing this because she feels like shit and owes Bruce. She owes it to him to create a reformed Gotham, because God knows how bad Gotham needs it. She owes it to Bruce to undo her mistakes and let him rest at ease, in addition to his friends who've helped him over the years.

She has a debt to pay – a very large debt – something which can't be measured in nominal values. She's not sure when it'll be over or if it ever will be. But the thing is, although Selina is extremely selfish and rude, in the end she does care. It's just that the few times she cared, someone got hurt and Selina blamed herself for it.

So, even if something happens where Selina gets her arm chopped off (well, maybe not that) she'll finish the job. There. It's the least she can do. She's got no one to run from and no one to chase. Selina can give her best – her all – for this. And she will because Bruce deserves it.

* * *

Two months have gone by now. Gotham slowly reemerges from the ashes, its citizens desperately trying to pick up the pieces. Now that Bane's threat is no longer in existence, political pundits and other media hosts blast Gotham's Dent Act. Some even have the audacity to claim Gotham should repeal the law. Honestly, Selina doesn't know why these people who live thousands of miles away are giving a shit. Just because Harvey Dent turned out to be a murderer doesn't necessarily mean the Dent Act doesn't work. It does – brilliantly. It gives Gotham the power it needs _and_ needed before Batman. Without it, the city will crumble under corruption once again.

At any rate Selina – who is beyond bored and has no idea what she should do – is out over at the trading docks. She's already looked over the files for both Crane and the Joker several times; in fact, she's memorized most of it. There's nothing here, that's all. No one is cooking anything. It takes time to pull off a master plan, but it's only been two months, so it's nearly impossible to do anything right now.

The weather has gotten exceptionally warmer, seeing that it's May and almost summertime. Waves gently lick the concrete, and for split second she wants to dip her feet inside. Over to the other side of the dock, police are patrolling the area to make sure no one comes in or gets out. There are two large shipping boats, most likely filled with food and medical supplies. Nearly eight years ago this was a breeding ground for mobsters. Many of their shipments would come in this way, and many of the police officers were given a hefty sum to turn a blind eye.

She hears movement to her right, so she quickly hides behind one of the warehouses. A policeman walks on over, circles around a bit and searches for an disturbance, then turns back around and leaves the area be. Selina stays at her spot and surveys the area. Poking her head to the side, she finds no one else walking around. Right when she's about to step forward, someone screams extremely loud.

_Damn it, not again_. Wishing she had her suit on, Selina clenches her fists and crouches down, peering over her shoulder and looking to the side to see if anyone is there. It's empty. She sincerely hopes the force takes care of the scream because it's another nuisance she doesn't need to deal with. Clearing her throat and putting her senses in hyper-aware drive, Selina steps away from the shadows. She pauses a few seconds to clear the area when suddenly she hears someone running right towards her.

She doesn't think. Selina slides back against the wall and waits for the person to come.

It happens out of nowhere. A middle aged man with a bit of a gut comes running towards her, completely naked, with his hands thrown in the air. He's delirious and cannot stop screaming; anything he shrieks out can't be understood. He smacks his hands on the sides of his head, jumps a few times, and runs by Selina so fast she can't register what she just saw. Suddenly, the area is impossibly quiet and Selina leans back, shocked.

Eventually the police take care of the man, but Selina has a suspicion that he was on drugs. Not just any drugs – something Crane must have done. She could be wrong, but when Selina's gut clenches and churns and causes her to be anxious, she's usually right. It has to be Crane, and this man happened to be his guinea pig. Now, she has something to kick start her investigation.

* * *

"Rick . . . I need your help."

Literally all the policemen and women stare at Selina as she leans against Rick's messy desk. As much as Selina doesn't give a shit what others think of her, this sight is incredibly unnerving. They hang back, silently judging her and Rick. Meanwhile, her almost friend focuses hard on the papers scattered on table. "Wow. Selina Kyle is actually admitting she needs me. But guess what? I don't care." He slams the papers on the desk, glares at her and relaxes in his chair. God, this is so frustrating. She had to screw everything up, didn't she? No wonder Rick's mad.

She leans forward and quietly says, "For crying out loud –"

"Alright, don't give me some bullshit explanation." He pushes his chair back even more so he can create some distance between them. Rick folds his arms across his chest in anger. "You tried to blackmail me for Christ's sake. How about you try to explain that?"

"It's necessary." Selina, too, crosses her arms.

"And on that note, this conversation is over." Abruptly, he gets up and nearly bumps into Selina.

She almost rests a hand on his arm but thinks better of it. The other police officers are currently pointing at them. Perfect. "Calm down. Just listen –"

Rick scoffs and says, "I'm not hearing anything you have to say unless you apologize." He zooms out of the room and Selina follows suit, ignoring everyone else. She trails him into the hallway. He's walking at a rapid pace.

Finally she catches up to him. "Apologizing doesn't suit me," she says in a hushed – yet firm – voice. It's true; it really doesn't. They're almost at the main doors, and thankfully hardly anyone is in the lobby. Selina's feeling nervous and guilty, which she _really_ doesn't need to feel. Dealing with people whose feelings have been hurt is entirely a new territory.

His movements stop and she's so close to bumping into Rick once again. Angrily, he towers over her and sasses, "In that case, you can leave me the hell alone."

"Rick . . ."

"Don't 'Rick' me," he snaps back. Exasperatedly he adds, "I was trying to help. Why can't you accept the fact that you're not alone?"

She's pulled up short, and surprisingly Selina can't come up with an answer. Lamely, she replies, "I've always been alone. I _like_ being alone, especially when I'm working. This is _my_ job, not yours."

Rolling his eyes, Rick asses her. "Wrong. You've been alone because it's easier to push people away, but maybe you should take a step back and look at your situation." He advances towards her and says, "You're working with Gordon. You're working alongside the law, and you're going to need people inside it. You're going to have to rely on people and trust them. So why can't you trust me?"

Why _can't_ she trust him? "Because, Rick, in my line of work it's different. You have to stand on your tiny little tippie-toes and make sure no one double-crosses you. _Ever_. Because it means life or death," Selina rushes out. "I can't explain to you what it's like living my life, and I don't know the exact reason why I don't trust anyone." Sighing, Selina genuinely says, "But I know you're a good guy Rick. In fact, I knew it the moment I met you." He softens and Selina continues, "I need your help."

Rick exhales loudly and glances at the windows. Finally, he looks at Selina and shyly questions, "So this means we're working together? No more . . . fake blackmailing or anything?"

She smiles. "No, of course not." A huge weight has been lifted off Selina's shoulders. She's mighty glad she decided to speak with Rick in person.

Nodding, Rick lifts his hand, brings it up to his face and thoroughly licks his palm. Smirking, he sticks his hand out and orders: "Shake on it."

"You must be insane to think I'll do it." But much to Rick and Selina's surprise, she licks her own palm and firmly shakes his hand. Quickly, she figures out Rick never actually licked his, and that her new friend has Selina's spit all over his palm. Having no idea how to deal with it, Selina continues to shake his hand as Rick slowly realizes the enormity of the situation.

Pulling his hand back, Rick exclaims, "Jesus Christ! Did you think I was serious?" Wiping his hands dramatically on his pants he adds, "I don't think that's happened to me since kindergarten."

She's feeling incredibly stupid and juvenile. "I thought you said no more . . . fake anything?" Selina crosses her arms once again.

Rick outright laughs and has the audacity to clasp his arm around her shoulders. She flinches, but he moves her along the hallway and happily says, "I'm glad we're on the same page now. So, what were you looking for?"

Selina would like to say she's feeling uncomfortable having Rick so close to her and walking around MCU as if she owns the place. But Selina's extremely good at adapting, so she adapts – and quickly finds out there's no such thing as adapting to friendship. And she likes it.

* * *

Her cell phone takes shitty pictures. Insanely shitty pictures. Selina has to squint her eyes to see the blueprint of the warehouse an Italian mob, formerly controlled by the Moretti family. Once the Dent Act was pushed through their mob was crumbled to pieces, but the warehouses by the river were still owned by the Moretti's. Crane could be working with them again, taking advantage of the family, or Selina is starting from the wrong point.

When she visited Rick at MCU, Selina had him pull up the blueprints for the warehouses. It took a while but eventually she was able to retrieve them. There aren't any underground tunnels nearby, but since Bane was digging the entire city underneath there might be a few here and there she doesn't know about.

It's one in the morning, and she's spent a good hour searching the area for any irregularities. There are very little cops wandering around tonight, which is odd. She's checked almost all the warehouses, and unfortunately most of them are empty. Of course, she's speed checking them without properly snooping around. Suddenly bored, Selina climbs on top of one of the warehouses, turns on her night vision goggles and watches the area. There's zero movement anywhere. She has a tight feeling in her stomach so she stays put.

Another thirty minutes pass until she hears voices straight ahead. Her ears perk up, and she immediately lies on her stomach, craning her neck forward so she can see below. Selina zooms in on the guys; there are four of them, each circled tight around one another. They inch closer and closer to the same warehouse Selina is currently lounging on. This must be the warehouse Selina has spent an hour and a half looking for. She notes the number – 62 – for later reference. The men are speaking in hushed tones, but a couple of them have very thick accents.

Soon enough, they're trying to unlock the warehouse. She can hear "cops" and "useless" but other than that these men are keeping their voices very low. They go inside, and Selina takes her chance.

She climbs down and silently lands in front of the warehouse door. They've shut it, but Selina presses her ear against the door and listens in. There's rustling in the inside, some heavy boxes perhaps, but other than that it's silent. Just as she's about to circle around the warehouse for an alternative exit, she feels someone is here to the side. Getting into spy mode, Selina strides carefully and rounds the corner, only to come face to face with John Blake, lurking on the side. "Seriously?"

Selina doesn't hesitate. She drags him all the way to the other warehouse and slams him against the wall, hard. He almost yelps but she clasps her hand over his mouth, muffling his groans. Afraid she might get caught, Selina takes him around the other warehouse and throws him onto the ground. "You couldn't do your detective work elsewhere, hmm?"

"What are you doing here?" he grunts. John clutches the side of his body as Selina comes over and kicks him in the ribs. Immediately, he grabs onto his chest but grits his teeth. Well, well. Selina has a trooper in her presence.

She gets right in his face and grabs onto his jacket. "Believe it or not Rookie, I'm here on business."

Within a split second, loud voices are heard from Selina's right. John's eyes widen in fear and he becomes paralyzed. "Thanks for creating a ruckus." She yanks him up and starts running away, dragging John with her. He tries to pry himself away from Selina, but she holds onto him real tight. The men from the warehouse have seemingly split up, and now it's a race against the clock. Selina, as poor as she is, doesn't have a car or anything. They weave in and out of the warehouses, but having to clutch on John while she's running is proving to be a difficult task. The air burns her lungs. She halts in front of another building and points to the staircase. "Up."

Reluctantly but efficiently, John climbs up and Selina follows suit. Once they get to the top, John lies down on his stomach while Selina looks ahead. She can see the guys spread out below, but it's obvious they've given up. After catching her breath, Selina firmly orders, "Tell me what you're doing here or I'll shoot off your fingers one by one."

It takes John a few seconds to reply. "I've been doing detective work on the side." He turns around and lies on his back, drinking in the night sky.

"Did Gordon put you up to this?" she asks angrily. Selina sits up, unlatches a gun from her suit, and points it at him. He doesn't flinch.

"No."

She clicks the gun and taunts, "Don't tempt me."

He looks at her, almost defeated, and replies, "I'm not lying. I'm . . . Gordon never put me up to this. I swear."

Surprisingly, Selina believes him. "You may know how to pop a few bullets, but that doesn't mean you know how to go undercover. You're too conspicuous," she notes, remembering the time she saw him when she was visiting Ray for new information.

He scoffs. "It's kind of hard to do work when you're not _him_."

She snaps her attention to John and finds him forlornly looking to the side. Did he know Batman was Bruce? Swallowing thickly, Selina says, "It doesn't matter. You're not him. No one will ever be."

"I know."

Selina chews on the insides of her cheeks. She doesn't want to kill him because there's no need. But he is a bit of a nuisance. "From now on, don't go looking for trouble. This is my job, something you can't handle. If I ever see you again –"

"Yeah. You'll kill me."

Selina gets up and smirks. "Atta boy." She turns around and climbs down the stairs, careful not to make any noise. She runs out of there as fast as she can, but once she's closer to home Selina starts to walk.

Something is happening at the docks and in the warehouses. Crane is definitely involved, as well as the Moretti family. She almost groans at this new development. Why do people have to get involved in crime so sudden? At any rate, coupled with Crane and a former mob family, Blake just had to creep up on her. This operation has barely started and everyone's already shitting on her.

Oh well. She's pretty used to people shitting on her in all kinds of directions.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Just want to thank everyone who's still keeping tabs on the story! I suck at updating, but RL is being a pain in the booty. I'm getting close to the thick of things, but I'm trying to build a bit of a back story. So if these chapters seem like fillers, they are. I can't have a big fight happen all of a sudden, as much as I would like to have one. At any rate, you guys are awesome.**

* * *

Rain pours down on Gotham as if it's the only way to clean up the filth buried deep in the city. The streets are shiny with water, and sewers are practically flooded and hardly working because of Bane. The city government hasn't declared an emergency, but they're advising everyone to stay indoors. In some areas of the city it smells of excrements. Unfortunately, nobody knows how long it will take to take control of the situation and repair the sewers. Although Bane's men didn't destroy all of the sewers, the damage created by explosions happened in key areas, thus blocking water from going underground. It's a problem.

The rain gives Selina another excuse to lounge around and do nothing. She sweeps her apartment and scrubs it squeaky clean. At one point she felt extremely restless, so Selina went ahead and put most of her decoration and stolen items in bags and boxes. Once this job is finished, she's going to bolt right out of here with a tiny U-Haul. Putting these trinkets in boxes right now might help her in the future when she needs to pack.

At five in the afternoon, Selina lies down on her bed and stares at the ceiling. She's slightly tired from the cleaning. After a few moments, Selina's breathing calms down and her eyes begin to close. She's in the stage where she's about to fall asleep when suddenly Selina yanks awake. Something is hitting the walls and her bed is shaking. _Oh for fucks sake_. Her neighbors, clearly bored, are having fun while Selina contemplates going over to their room and pulling them apart. They're loud and obnoxious, and it doesn't help that their headboard keeps hitting the wall separating them both. Selina's bed shakes as loud moans drift over to her room.

Annoyed, she gets up and heads to the living room. She paces in circles, agitated and pissed off. The fucking isn't as loud in here, but it reminds her of how lonely and bored she is. Yeah, Selina has Rick but he has a job, and Ray lives in the side of town she doesn't want to visit. She kind of wishes Jen was still here, but Selina's dealt with worse. She can handle having no one to talk to because, well, she's always been this way. Being lonely is good in most occasions, that's all.

The trick to be Selina Kyle was so justify your actions, no matter how big or small they were. And not only to justify them, but to wholeheartedly believe the lie. Sure, she might have felt guilty sometimes (especially now), but after thinking and rethinking, her mind twists whatever happens into something she can deal with. It's how she's survives.

But surviving isn't fun or great or perfect. It's terrible. Because she has to run, hide and lie, and it becomes so lonely. She's created a fantasy in her mind – a fantasy where Selina's actions have a purpose and she's not as bad as the world makes her out to be. She's just Selina. But with each day dream comes a price. People die, she kills, steals, and she's caught in a web of betrayal and constantly looking over her shoulder.

Surviving can be very isolated. It's not like she's on an expedition to climb Mount Everest with a group of travelers who are friendly with one another. She's climbing on her own with a single bottle of water and no rope. It's tough and challenging.

Maybe, when all of this is over, she'll be able to live somewhere small with a cute cottage, and have a hot neighbor as her lover. Maybe, she'll find Bruce and they can play dress up. Maybe, she won't have to worry about getting killed and feeling guilty. Maybe, she can survive all of this, come out on top, and have someone there with their hand outstretched, beckoning her into a new life.

Maybe – _hopefully_ – it'll be Bruce, and then she won't feel as lonely.

* * *

The rain lasted four days, and on the fifth day large trucks with huge pumps started circling the city. These trucks had to come in via ships, since all the bridges are destroyed, but they are very limited. Selina feels bad for Gotham; poor city can't catch a break. Selina's area is largely flooded as well, and the only way she could get anywhere is through a boat or jumping on rooftops. She can't stay at home because it sucks a lot, and coupled with the loathsome screwing next door Selina really wants to get out. It smells of poo, and now that it's early May the weather is getting muggy. She's trapped in her apartment, spraying whatever perfume she has left to push the nasty smell away.

Pacing, Selina traces everything she's learned so far, which unfortunately is all based on speculation. The crazy man Selina encountered by the docks is most likely one of Crane's men, a guinea pig for his new type of drug. Prior to the Occupation, Selina had heard some of Crane's loyal – and crazy – men were trying to replicate formulas as Crane sat in Arkham. They, of course, failed but now that Crane is out he has most certainly perfected it. The Moretti family more or less may be involved, but Crane could be using them. They're a dead mob family, their trade no longer needed.

As for the Joker, she hasn't heard a single thing about him thus far. She suspects he'll come out of the shadows soon enough. He likes to play, and when he finds something to tease and flirt with, he'll come out with a bang.

Thank goodness Selina has Rick and Ray to help her out. She can't believe she almost threw Rick aside. He has been extremely helpful when he clearly didn't have to. Unlike Jen, he can take care of himself all the while providing friendship. She likes him. Ray, of course, is an old friend, almost like a father-daughter relationship (God knows how much she needs it). As for Blake . . . time will tell. He's not a bad person, just an overly optimistic kid who threw her into jail. And he happens to appear in the wrong places at the wrong time.

Exhausted with herself, Selina drops down on the ground and begins doing some pushups. She hasn't exercised in a while, partly because she hasn't really needed it. The lack of food kept her body in a lean shape, but she did do a few crunches and pushups every now and then. Selina goes down until her nose touches the floor, and quickly raises herself up. Soon, she's done almost fifty pushups and her entire body is burning. She finishes and yearns for more.

Within a couple of hours, Selina has done thirty minutes of pilates, forty-five minutes of boxing, as well as mixed martial arts. Sweat drips down her face and her clothes are impossibly wet. Selina surveys her apartment, surprised she hasn't knocked any items over. Whenever she would practice, Selina had an uncanny ability to throw everything on the ground and break a lot of objects. It wasn't that she was sloppy; she just felt the need to pretend the items were actual humans. Hearing glass break and things falling over brought a sense of satisfaction. It reminds her of an incident when she was staying at a hotel in Beverly Hills, which she subsequently trashed. Of course, Selina was charged with a large bill . . . and never paid them back.

Thoroughly worn out, Selina collapses on the floor and evens out her breathing. It's silent for a good five minutes before her female neighbor starts squealing. Loudly.

Something overcomes her. It's . . . frustration. It just bubbles up from her toes all the way to her head, and without thinking her body jumps up. Adrenaline and anger courses through Selina, and before she knows it, her door opens and she's standing in front of the neighbor's door.

Selina kicks the door down and stomps inside the apartment. She rushes past the beer bottles and other food items, desperately trying to ignore the screwing. Turns out she walked into a different hallway, so Selina strides all the way to the other side of the apartment, searching for the assholes.

Their bedroom door is partly open. Selina roughly pushes it aside and walks in on them. It's a perfect scene from a movie in which the couple jump back in shock and the intruder blankly stares at them. They're both young, probably in their middle 20s; Selina immediately recognizes them as Jen's friend. The boy gets off his girlfriend and exclaims, "What the hell! Get out of here!" He's standing stark naked, but he quickly covers himself with his hands. His girlfriend throws a blanket on herself and watches Selina with wide eyes.

Selina steps forward by the bed, crouches down and grabs a hold of it.

"What are you doing?!"

She starts yanking the bed to the side with the girlfriend still lying on it. Amidst all the yelling from them, Selina pushes it away from the wall with as much strength as she can gather. Vaguely, Selina hears the guy exclaim "Jesus Christ!" while his girlfriend stupidly lies on the bed. She's covered in rage right now.

Once Selina has moved the bed far away from the wall, she coldly says, "I am sick of you two creating cracks on my Goddamn bedroom wall because you can't stop fucking." She evens out her breathing and grabs a vase from their dresser, the room absolutely silent. She breaks the glass in half, raises it and points it at the boy. "If I hear you two ever again, I'm going to rip your family jewels right off.

"As for you," Selina taunts and points the broken vase at his partner, "I'll shove this inside so far up it'll give you chronic hemorrhoids and internal bleeding for all I care."

Selina tosses the vase on the ground and saunters out of there, feeling relieved. Some of the tension and frustration she's been going through have somewhat dissipated. Kicking ass and scaring people always gives her a rush. Finally, she can peacefully go to sleep tonight.

* * *

It takes Gotham another week before all the water recedes underground. Currently, the federal and city government tries to handle the radioactive problems coming from the nuclear blast two months ago. She doesn't know why they didn't try taking care if sooner, but for all Selina knows the tap water may be contaminated with nuclear chemicals. Perhaps she'll gain some alien superpower to get the hell out of Gotham.

They've been given bottled water for the past couple of months, so drinking any contaminated water is slim. The government simply wants to make sure the dirty water doesn't get near any of the supplies or destroy any wildlife. Of course, media outlets are throwing this entire situation out of proportion, even scaring European assholes of radioactive water which _might_ come their way. Also known as highly unlikely.

Almost everyone is banned from coming near the shorelines, but since the warehouses are there Selina manages to slip by and walk around. There are only a couple of patrolmen, so Selina takes her sweet time and tours the area. It's daytime, which automatically makes her a target, but she's under Gordon's protection so she's already safe. It's very nice out, and despite wearing a black hoodie to cover herself, it's still cool.

Selina spends her sweet time in the area, looking for any discrepancies. As far as she can tell, nothing seems to be out of place – not a single lock is turned to the side, nor is there any sign of movement. It's only the calm before a storm, so really, Selina shouldn't be too relieved that she can't see anything. It's all right beneath her nose; all she needs to do is sniff it out.

The only thing she is able to sniff out is John Blake, who's a good hundred feet away. _Great_. Selina immediately tenses up and waits for him to make a move. However, good old Rookie doesn't even notice she's in front of him before he's standing thirty feet away. "Shit," she can hear him mutter. He has a vanilla envelope tucked underneath his arm and says, "I promise I wasn't following you."

She's about to say something back before her eyes snap up to his face and asses his condition. He looks terrible. There are deep, dark under eye circles and his face is exceptionally pale. Blake, quite frankly, seems to be sick. That or his mom hasn't made any home cooked meals for him lately.

"Have you had a chance to even _peek_ your head through the window? You're paler than Bane was when I shot him." She smirks and steps forward a few. The closer she gets, the worse he looks. For a split second, Selina is slightly worried, but then she immediately berates herself for thinking about him in a . . . caring way.

"Thanks for your concern, but no."

"Hold on – let me keep guessing." Blake sighs and tiredly rolls his eyes. "Your girlfriend dumped you and you haven't had anything to eat. And your mother, who absolutely loved her, decided not to make any more chicken pot pies until you clean your act up." Jokingly, Selina puts her hands on her hips and _humphs_ at Blake. He's not amused.

His jaw tightens. "My mother is dead, and I haven't had a girlfriend in the past two years. But I do know how to warm chicken pot pies in the microwave."

Well damn. Brushing it aside, she asks, "What's the envelope for?"

"I, uh . . . It's actually for you." Gingerly, Blake comes towards her and cautiously hands the envelope.

Suspicion clouds her. "Is this an arrest warrant for poor old me?"

"Unfortunately, no. Take a look."

Selina still doesn't trust him, but she does exactly as he orders, and finds pictures of boxes and other various items. "Great photography skills, Rookie." Shutting the envelope, she coldly inquires, "What's it _for_?"

Shoving his hands inside his pockets, Blake replies, "It's stuff hidden in Moretti's warehouses. Nothing's there. Just old family memorabilia and papers. The rest of the twenty other warehouses have old furniture. However," he states excitedly albeit a bit guarded, "do you remember how they transported drugs?"

"Back alley ways, perhaps?"

"Not really. Through online websites under the guise of selling furniture. The bigger the article, the –"

"More drugs there were." Hmm. Mr. Rookie clearly spent a lot of time digging this information up.

Opening the envelope once again, Selina flips through the images. Sure enough, all the pictures simply show old boxes with even older things. The last images are ones from Moretti's abandoned warehouses – all twenty of them with all kinds of furniture. "What's your endgame? Why are you showing me this?" Selina asks dubiously. "I can't offer much."

Blake shakes his head. "There's no – Look, I know you're not a terrible person."

Selina scoffs. "Gee, thanks. My self-esteem just shot up the roof."

Blake ignores her snide comment and continues. "I know you're working with Gordon. And I want –"

"And _who_ told you?" Selina questions angrily. If it's Rick, she will certainly kill him no matter what he says.

He's a little startled. "No one. I swear. I'm a detective, Selina. It's my job to pick up on clues. Not to mention that little stunt you pulled at Arkham? Not very smooth," Blake adds. "Gordon wouldn't have let it slide if he hadn't made some kind of deal with you."

Selina gauges him for a solid minute. Yes, he's astute. Yes, he's a detective. Yes, it appears he dealt with the rougher parts of town. "What do you want?"

Swallowing thickly, Blake responds with a quiet, "I want to help with whatever you're doing."

She can't help but laugh. It's a cynical chuckle, but the very _idea_ of Blake helping her out is flat out hilarious. "You must really enjoy pushing my buttons. Rookie. It's not going to happen."

"Why not?"

She sighs. "You sent me to Blackgate. And I know it's your job, but we work on the opposite side of the law. I can't – won't – have someone like you trying to reign me in every single time I go out and get things done." Selina steps forward until she's a mere inches away from Blake. "I play dirty."

"Not as dirty as you think you do."

Exasperatedly, Selina throws her hands in the air. "Jesus Christ, you sound just like him." His eyes perk up at the unannounced mention of Bruce. "I don't need your help. I don't want your help. This is my job. I'll do it _my_ way." Slowly, she walks around him and begins to leave.

"Just wait!" Blake jogs a bit and catches up to her. He stands in front of Selina and says, "I know you don't want me, but you do _need_ me. If it wasn't for me, you would've gone sneaking into these warehouses, and wasted time and energy looking through them." Blake takes a deep breath. "I don't want . . . criminals like Crane and Joker parading around in Gotham. This is my – _our_ – town," he steely adds.

She can't trust him. But the odd thing is, she wants to. What should she do? Usually when someone is "working" with her, Selina has something on them and easily discards said person whenever she wants. Despite everything Blake just said, she knows it's going to be an uphill battle with him. He'll question every single move she'll make, and it's going to be another nuisance for her. But something is amiss. She knows it is.

"Cute speech. Although, Gordon doesn't know you're talking to me, does he?"

Shamefully, Blake looks down on the ground and exhales. "No, he doesn't."

Bingo. Blake shouldn't be working with an outlaw without Gordon's orders. If he ever decides to pull any stunt on her, she'll go straight to Gordon and have him thrown in jail for breaking the law – whatever she can come up with. Selina's pretty close to letting him in on the details, but for now she needs to make sure he's being honest. "I'll think about it." _Maybe. _

"Seriously?" For the first time, Blake smiles and genuinely seems thrilled. "That's . . . That's –"

"Don't get your hopes up, Rookie," Selina responds slyly. He's so excited Blake doesn't even notice.

* * *

Rookie took some pretty detailed photographs. All the numbers from each warehouse are have been labeled in silver permanent marker, which still smells for some reason. She examines each picture and looks for anything which might tip her off. So far, nothing. Selina's slightly pissed off. However, she doesn't deny Blake's credibility. She knows he's telling the truth.

Blake doesn't have to be a part of her operation but he can _think _he is. Selina will have to make him believe he's doing Selina and Gotham a favor, but if she can keep him away until her job is over, then she'll do that. On the other hand, Blake is a smart kid so she shouldn't underestimate him too much.

Unfortunately for Selina, there are one too many players in this game. It should have been plain old Selina. No Rick and no Blake. Maybe she doesn't need those two anyway. Maybe, out of some unknown lonely reason, Selina decided to side with Rick and possibly think about letting Blake help her out. It makes her annoyed and frustrated with herself. She's acting weak.

At any rate, since it seems like the Mortetti's are involved, Selina can move onto the family and start digging. She knows they used to own a lot of strip clubs downtown, but in the past eight years the ringleaders were put behind bars one by one. She doubts they still own it. Honestly, Selina doesn't want to back to dealing with strip clubs and horny men, because God knows how difficult they are to handle. Selina has never taken off her clothes under anyone's orders, but the very thought of doing such an act – again – makes her stomach twist. She doesn't want to do that.

Selina enjoys sex and sexy things. Really. If she had a boyfriend he would be a _very_ happy camper. But having to drop her clothes for men who have a wife and two kids makes her want to vomit. She can't handle the thought of doing something like that and knowing she could potentially ruin a family. And she also can't handle how . . . slimey and dishonest those men are. She would rather kill them.

Troubled by her thoughts and what she'll need to do for the next couple of months, Selina decides to wear her suit and prowl around for a hour or so. It's well past eleven at night, but she needs to do something right now. She's feeling antsy and she _must_ have some sort of adrenaline rush right now. Plus, knocking her neighbor's door down twice in one week is pushing it.

Once slipping everything on, Selina climbs out of her fire escape and heads onto the roof. She watches everything below; a few cars drive through the streets but it's mostly quiet. Selina climbs down a bit and jumps onto the ground, walking with no exact purpose. On their own accord, her hips begin to sway in that special strut she's created, and Selina can _feel_ every layer of confidence coat her skin.

Wearing this suit and causing mayhem is her form of adrenaline. Now that she thinks about it, maybe this is why Bruce wore his suit as often as he did. It became an addiction for him. She doesn't deny that it's her form of addiction, too.

She heads on over to the south side of town, purposely searching for trouble. She's that bored. The police haven't caught all of the Blackgate escapees nor the Arkham crazies, but they've definitely done a better job than she thought. The government sent trained Army men to Gotham almost right after Bruce destroyed the bomb. They've stayed under orders, but she doesn't doubt without them the city would be in ruins. Still, there are crazies running around and finding them might end up being a fruitless task.

Of course, there's one little problem in the way. But Selina will do anything to catch them.

Selina continues on aimlessly, and almost chastises herself for following through with this plan. She really has nothing to do. Selina halts for a moment and contemplates turning around. This is extremely foolish. Selina doesn't prowl the streets to catch bad guys – she is a bad guy. Obviously she is tamer compared to the others, but what gives her the right to chase after men she might call "boss" one day?

That's it. She's done for the night. The entire idea was so stupid and wholly un-Selina she doesn't know what to think. Sure, she went out with the purpose of getting an adrenaline rush, but when did that become "Let's catch the bad guys?"

Swiftly, Selina turns back around and mutters to herself when unexpectedly she hears three gunshots. It's coming from the north side and the streets are oddly quiet. Soon enough, she hears police sirens and shouting. This must mean they're close.

Rooted in place, Selina's mind flits back and forth. Selina's not a good person, but she's clearly not the worst. She's bored and needs an adrenaline rush. So . . . helping out the police shouldn't be an issue, right? It's a onetime thing. It'll be over. Besides, the police don't have the fighting skills as Selina does. She would be doing herself and Gotham a favor.

Her head gets a little itchy just thinking about doing a good deed. It's such a mindfuck. Being bad is incredibly easy, but it's so difficult for her to help others. No one presumes anything from her other than stealing jewels and pissing off the wrong people. She's done it so often it's become her trademark.

But there's one person who will always expect the best out of her. And without warning, she's abruptly reminded why she's staying in Gotham. Why she's even standing out here in seventy-four degree weather with dirty leather clothes and uncomfortable heels. As quickly as that, Selina walks forward, determination seeping her bones. She can do this. She _will_ do this for him.

She runs in a straight line and tries to catch up to the police. So far only one siren can be heard, but now Selina hears a lot of shouting and some gunfire over to her left. Swiveling her head, Selina zeroes in on the sounds and walks toward it. She's close. Her hand goes to her holster and she unlatches the gun, hoping she won't need to use it.

Random sounds and sirens are throwing Selina off, so instead she climbs on top of a fire escape, quiet as a cat. Once she's near the roof, Selina hangs onto the stairwell and watches for any movement. Her night vision goggles need a tune up, but thankfully it's able to spot some movement thirty yards away; by the looks of it, it's only one person – the escapee. Approximately, the police are about another seventy yards away.

Selina watches the convict or whoever he is. They make a grave error and turn right, headed for Selina. This is her chance.

She untangles herself from the fire escape and jumps down as effortlessly as possible. The lack of neighbors watching unnerves her a little, but she continues on and searches for the person police are looking for. She ducks behind cars and is vigilant. However, the person has yet to show themselves. Sirens wail in the distance but they're not close. Now it's up to Selina.

She waits another thirteen seconds until she peeks again. Sure enough, the man is running right to her. He's a heavy set man, probably around two hundred and fifty pounds, and clearly doesn't work out. Street lamps accentuate every hideous curve of his body, and once Selina zooms in on his face, she instantly recognizes who he is.

Albert Farnsworth was incarcerated in May 2004 for raping and killing eight women from 1998 until he was caught. He put up a fight and killed a police officer, and was subsequently put in for life without parole. But he was let loose from Blackgate and only God knows what he's done since.

Selina's hands curl into tight fists. She stays behind the car and waits for the son of a bitch to come over. She's angry. People – _animals_ – like him shouldn't even exist. With resolve set in her bones, Selina focuses in on his footsteps and labored breathing. _Five, four,_ _three, two . . ._

"Not so fast, honey."

The man yelps as Selina grabs onto the lapels of his jacket and tosses him on the ground. He's a portly man with bad hygiene. He attempts to get up but Selina kicks him on his knees, and he screams so loud her ears might just break. Without missing a beat, she digs her heels into his knee caps, and a satisfying crunch can be heard miles away. Albert shouts and curls up in fetal position. "I'm sorry. Did that hurt?" Selina taunts. For good measure she hooks her heels on the underside of his arms and scraps his skin clean. Blood oozes out, and Albert cries like a baby.

She bends over and takes her gun out of her holster, pressing it against his head and covering his mouth to stifle his screams. "You're sick, you know that?" Selina curls her finger against the trigger and whispers into his ear, "I would gladly put a bullet through your head." His eyes bulge out in fear.

Unfortunately she can't do much more damage because the police have arrived. There are no cars, but many are on foot. For a split second Selina is worried they're here to catch her. "Selina! What are you doing here?"

"Rick?"

He comes over to her and watches the two of them. "Jesus, what did you do?" There are four other police officers, each with a gun in their hand and breathing heavily from the chase.

Selina's fixated on the man and says, "Nothing too serious." She can feel five sets of careful eyes gauging her, wondering if they should arrest Selina. She looks at Albert and releases her hand from his mouth. Some tears have leaked to the side, but he seems pretty alright. He can't run and he can't hide.

"You little bitch! You broke my knees! Fu–"

"What's he talking about?" Rick nervously asks.

Still facing Albert, Selina responds, "I made it harder for him to run. You're welcome."

Rick groans. "Selina, we can't have you doing this whenever you want," he whispers lowly. Albert moans from the pain as he tries to move to the side. She smirks.

"I didn't have to help, you know."

"Rick, should we arrest her too?" his colleague questions.

Selina looks up at the officer and scoffs, disgusted. "You must be joking." Albert attempts to move again but Selina holds him down.

Her friend shakes his head. "No. She didn't do anything." He sighs and says, "Come on, let's lift this asshole up."

He begins to bend over when Selina places a hand on his arm and quietly says, "Wait. I need to ask him some questions." Rick nods and stands back, gesturing to his other officers to hold back.

Selina puts the gun back to the rapist's face and inquires, "Have you heard anything about Crane? The Joker? Moretti's?"

Albert looks a little puzzled but responds, "Who do you think I am? Some ringleader or some shit?"

"Quit being a smartass." Selina wraps her hand around his throat and asks, "Well?"

Once Selina removes her hand he swallows heavily. A slow change appears on his face, in which his eyes become a little darker and his lips form into a nauseating smile. "Let me tell ya something, sugar." Her heart beats beneath her chest in anticipation.

"At the end, joke's gonna be on you. No matter what happens, Gotham ain't eva gonna be free." He turns his head a little and focuses on the officers as he grins. "You cain't put people behind bars. It makes us antsy, and we got a lot of time to plan once we're inside.

"Storm's coming. Again."

Their little circle is quiet for a moment. She doesn't doubt his warning, but Selina knows if she presses him for more answers he won't say anything. Standing up, Selina leans back and forlornly stares at Rick. He gives a look of resignation and fear.

Something snaps inside Selina. She's tired of this bullshit. Seriously, what could come next? Two nuclear bombs? A freak virus which turns everyone into a zombie? Now she understands why GCPD has given up so many times. And now, she understands why Bruce became Batman to save the city. Gotham needed an example. Something to strive for. Without it, the city will be lost all over again. She can't do this to Bruce. He deserves some good news for his hard work.

"Well, thanks for the head's up." Selina raises her gun and pulls the trigger, shooting Albert straight in the balls. That's what he gets for raping and killing innocent women. A moment of silence follows, which subsequently turns into Albert screaming his vocal chords off.

"Holy shit, Selina. You really had to do that?" Rick moans out. He buries his hands in his face and shakes his head, defeated. The rest of the officers stay back, not knowing what to do. She can hear a police siren coming closer. It's time for her to go.

Shrugging, Selina captures everyone's attention, brings a finger up to her red lips and jokingly whispers, "Shh. Don't tell anyone I did this."

She runs off, climbing on top of roofs and jumping from building to building, feeling the air whip past her. Sweat rolls down her forehead and lands on top of her goggles, but for the first time in months she feels like she's doing something. You know, making a difference. Selina doesn't fail to notice how it makes her feel slightly bit better, and she thinks to herself _Being good isn't hard_. But she smiles knowingly because of course she's not squeaky clean. She just shot, scrapped and tore a man up. At least she's doing something, and something is better than nothing.

_Prima o poi_, Selina hears Bruce say in her head. Whatever the hell it means, it causes her to feel . . . happy. And she continues on into the night without a single care in the world.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: And best comment ever goes to Guest #2: "I like this story so much that I want to have sex with it." LOL! You guys are simply awesome. **

**I know Bruce is on everyone's mind, but remember this story is about Selina's redemption . . . and then some. ;) Proving herself to him through Gordon's job is part of her journey. So hold your horses! The romance will be coming up. You'll see Bruce and the wait will be worth it.**

**And is anybody else pissed off at the Batman vs. Superman movie? Screw Snyder, where's Nolan when we need him? **

* * *

"Your job is to collect _only_ two people, not shoot someone right in the groin and cause permanent scarring on their arms. What part of 'getting _Crane_ and the _Joker_' didn't register in your brain?"

She's absolutely livid. Little Rick had to tell Gordon the truth when the Commissioner found out about Albert's run-in with Selina. Her hands clench into tight fists, and she aches the give Rick a bloody nose. What part of not telling anyone didn't register in Rick's brain? She resists the urge to roll her eyes.

"I'm hurt. Knowing my track record I could've let him walk," Selina shoots back.

Gordon sighs and throws a pile of papers on his desk. "Even you have standards." He's got her there. Upset, he leans against his desk and crosses his arms. "I can't allow you to roam around with a gun on your hip."

"Oh Commissioner," Selina purrs. "You don't really mean that, do you?"

He frowns at her sternly. "I do."

A moment of intense staring occurs. In the end, Selina gives up and removes the gun tucked underneath her shirt. Dramatically, she slams it down on his desk and raises an eyebrow. "Satisfied?"

He gets up and steps around his desk, finally sitting down on his chair and shoves the gun inside a drawer. "Very. Now, would you mind telling me what you know so far?"

She clicks her tongue. "Not a chance, Grandpa. Me not telling you anything was one of my stipulations, was it not? Or have you forgotten already." Selina tilts her head to the side and challenges him.

Gordon is clearly unperturbed. "Actually, you asked me not to have anyone follow or check up on you. Which I believe I have done." Immediately, Gordon's eyes droop a little and he leans back against his chair. "I need something there. When I was working with –"

"I'm not him," Selina cuts out. Crossing her arms she continues, "You have to give me time to figure things out. These people you want me to catch are criminals." She pauses and adds quietly, "So am I. I know how they work."

A moment of silence follows through. Gordon breathes heavily for a few seconds before saying, "I'm not asking you to be one."

"You never had to. They'll answer to me because I know what they're thinking. I know what their next move will be." Selina steps forward and pleads, "You can't scare them into hiding, or otherwise they'll retreat and come up with a bigger plan. I have to do this my way." If GCPD starts snooping around, the mob, Crane and the Joker will definitely clean up their tracks and wait for the moment to come out from the shadows. And it won't be pretty.

Gordon closes his eyes. "At least tell me what you know so far. I won't have any of my men doing anything. But if you ever need us, we won't be able to conduct anything without proper information to take those men down. I need your help, Miss Kyle."

She contemplates for a moment until she says, "Fine." She pauses theatrically and supplies, "I think the Moretti's may be involved."

He raises an eyebrow and inquires, "How?"

Shrugging, Selina replies, "I don't know. Which is why I plan on investigating in a week's time."

A bout silence occurs for a good minute. "Is that it?"

"What do you mean 'Is that it?'"

Gordon sighs once again. "I was just expecting –"

"What part of spending five months under a terrorist's regime didn't register with you?" Selina snaps. It's a low blow but she's angry. He shouldn't expect a miracle in the first two months. And Selina has been working tirelessly minus a few setbacks. Likewise, she doesn't have the same fancy toys as Bruce. All the items she's stolen over the years don't compare to what Bruce used.

Gordon's face becomes slightly flushed. "You are in no position to say that."

Clenching her jaw Selina responds, "This city was destroyed. It is virtually impossible for me to get anything done. The stuff I've collected thus far only happened with luck and with the help of some friends." Crossing her arms on again, she adds quietly, "So yes, I _am_ in a position to say that."

Some loud racket can be heard outside the office doors while Gordon glares at her. Selina focuses on his demeanor and overall appearance, watching a tiny speck of gray hair flipping back and forth due to the air vent. His eyes are droopy with large, purple circles beneath. There's also a bit of stubble on his jaw, but his mustache has remained intact. She feels bad for him. Despite him being on the other side of the law, she will always pity him. Being moral is taxing and she can see it clear as day.

"Fair enough." He swallows thickly and forlornly glances down at his knees before asking, "You don't happen to know anything about the sewers, do you?"

Her eyebrows come together and she questions, "Meaning?"

He shrugs. "Some of Bane's men are still hiding out there. Probably regrouping."

Selina frowns at this new information. She thought most of them were out in the streets when Gotham waged its war. "You're telling me Bane's men survived the war?"

Gordon nods and says, "Some but yes. They fled underground before we could get to them. We've tried looking at underground blueprints but they're useless considering how many months they spent destroying it." He sighs and adds, "We estimate there are about two hundred men, mostly from Blackgate. Their escape routes are very limited in the sewers; it's only a matter of time before they come out for some fresh air."

Selina digests all of it in. She forgets how ruined Gotham still is. The economy is crippled, its infrastructure destroyed, and its citizens lost. The sun shines but barely reaches the surface, and it pisses her off. Selina collapses on the chair nearest to her and rests a hand on her forehead. She sees Gordon do the same.

Her job has barely started and already she wants to stop. This time around, her task doesn't give her any sort of thrill. It's all for someone else. She realizes she wants to give up because Selina isn't being a selfish thief anymore. She's doing something for _him_. A sharp pain travels from one end of her forehead to the other, and instantly she scolds herself for physically responding to a good deed in a negative way. Selina chews the inside of her cheeks and decides she can have a little job on the side, too. It's the least she can do.

(She's been saying that a lot lately, but it doesn't bother her as much as she thought it would.)

"I know some . . . areas. Underground. I could be of assistance."

Gordon snaps his attention back to Selina, his eyes wide open. "Really?"

Attempting to appear nonchalant as possible, Selina shrugs her shoulders and glances off to the window, keeping her face expressionless. "What have I got to lose?"

"Your life, perhaps?"

Inhale, exhale. Selina continues to stare out into the gloomy night and replies, "Not this one."

She hears Gordon click his tongue and lean forward on his desk. "Selina," he starts off quietly, "I can't have you helping us if you feel there's nothing for you."

Slowly, Selina turns her head and zeroes straight into Gordon's tired eyes. "Oh no, there's definitely something. Like my shiny, brand new identity you promised to get me." She smirks.

For now, Gordon brushes aside her thoughtful comments. He smiles slightly and says, "We plan on entering the sewers in two weeks' time. I would appreciate it if you could come to the meetings and aid us. And I'm a man of my word, Miss Kyle."

Selina nods in acknowledgement, feeling a cold shudder rip through her from remembering old memories.

* * *

_Her heels click on the cold, cemented surface. Water drips continuously, creating a symphony of raindrops and instantly calming her in this God forsaken place. The man in front of her walks slowly but purposely. He grips his handgun every time Selina's heels scrap on the surface. _

_ They round a sharp corner, and suddenly a manmade waterfall roars to life as they enter a spacious area filled with men loitering around. State of the art computers are littered to the side, while other workers are on the higher levels, drilling into walls. Why, she doesn't know. She's not sure if she wants to. _

_ It's strangely silent. Silent and full of men who devote their time and effort to this masked man her tour guide mentioned. She can see it on their faces. There's a bit of a cult-like mentality going on here, which absolutely sickens her. Men without fear and regret are the hardest to kill. And there are _many_ to kill here. _

_ The tour guide raises his hand and gestures for her to stop. She capitalizes on the slight pause, looking for a quick escape route and wondering what the hell is going on here. Finding her goggles completely useless for now, she removes them and blinks. The lighting is harsh from where she's standing. _

_ "She is here." The man stay still and clasps his hands in front of him, his ammo-filled vest clinking as he makes any movement. All the other cronies stare at her, but Selina is solely focused on the man sitting twenty yards away._

_ She's frightened by the very sight of him. And he's fucking huge. He dwarves his entire office with his size, and dear God, what is on his face? What is he? A failed science experiment or an abomination? Or the Devil himself? _

_ "Wonderful."_

_ A shiver tickles her on her arms, legs, and finally to her spine. His voice is almost jovial, but his appearance is a different story altogether. He looks menacing, but his voice reminds everyone he is happy being a . . . whatever he is. A murder. Psychopath. A terrorist. And he relishes it. _

_ "You may come closer, Miss Kyle," he beckons her. Selina raises her head and focuses on the man, finding his penetrating stare too much, but she stays put. He positively terrifies her. She can't screw around with him like her usual targets. From afar, Selina can see that he has green eyes. She wishes they were an uglier color. _

"_Barsad, you can leave." His trusted man turns around and walks out of there, warily glancing at Selina. She stares right back. The lull of the waterfall makes this experience surreal and dreamlike, but reality stabs her each and every time she focuses her eyes on the surrounding area. Selina can hear him breathe through his hideous mask. It sounds mechanical and artificial. _

_Bane steps closer, his heavy boots creating such a racket. Selina would be lying if she said his feet didn't shake the floor, and combined with his sheer size it's seems highly plausible. "I believed I asked you to come closer," he hisses. _

_Selina swallows thickly. Her eyes scan the area once again for a possible escape route. "I don't like to be told to do anything . . . by anyone." Her retort lacks any sort of sarcasm or playfulness. She can't make a joke out of this situation. _

"_But in this case, it would be wise for you to pay attention." _

_Bane begins to walk towards her, and in doing so he grabs onto the lapels of his jacket. He looks so in control and uncaring in the way he walks. As if he owns the entire fucking world. She already hates this thing. "If you're looking for –"_

"_Ah, yes. I _am_ searching for something. If I remember clearly, you stole from a dear friend of mine," he explains. _

_Shit. What goes around comes around, right? _

"_In the underground world, we have a thing called a barter system. I give something in exchange for something else. So in other words, I don't have it," Selina says as honestly as she can. _

_Within four agonizing seconds, Bane saunters forward, his breathing echoing in the entire area. He towers over her in such a casual manner, as if his size isn't as imposing as it really is. "You will get it for me." _

"_Why would I do that?"_

"_I will kill you if you fail to deliver. One less burglar in the world does not hurt anyone, does it?" Bane stands back, tilting his head to side and examining her. She doesn't doubt his threat. "Where I come from, we heavily rely on honor. Upon mine, when I ask for something, I will certainly give something else in return." _

_Selina clenches her jaw but her curiosity gets the better of her. "There's nothing out there which I haven't – or can't – steal. What could you possibly have that I couldn't get on my own?" _

_Although half of Bane's face is covered with that hideous mask, she just knows his face lights up when he says, "A master program for a master thief: a tool which erases your identity from every database in the world." _

_A gust of air sweeps into Selina's airways and she can't breathe. That's impossible. There's no such thing which could delete Selina Kyle from every single database, newspaper, and fanblog in the world. "Teasing a girl with a large appetite isn't exactly nice." Haughtily, Selina sizes him up even though it might be a mistake. _

_ "A company called Rykin Data developed it. When you hand over the item you stole from my friend – in addition to helping out with a few other matters – you will have the ultimate tool to disappear. Until then, consider yourself bonded to our . . ." He muses for a quick second and adds, "Contract." _

_ She's dealt with threats like Bane's, but usually Selina is able to deliver and not worry about getting killed – somewhat. There's no end in sight. She could leave town if she wants to, but she's under everyone's radar. Getting out and escaping the cops will be impossible. And if Selina chooses not to follow Bane's orders, he will surely take up on his threat. She's trapped and helpless. _

_ "What do you need me to do?"_

* * *

Selina types in Blake's name into the computer and waits for his living information to pop up. As she waits, she glances across the room where two officers openly gawk at Selina. Once she catches them staring at her, they hastily turn away, but when Selina looks out the glass window, she sees another group of officers in the hallway staring right at her. They are incredibly transparent.

Mockingly, Selina raises a hand and salutes the cops, returning her attention back to the computer. Quickly, she jots down Blake's information and hurriedly exits out of the search window. She yawns and sees that it's half past one in the morning. After her talk with Gordon she went straight to their computer lab and started searching for blueprints on the sewers and any sort of information she could find.

The door opens and Rick comes inside, smiling and carrying two coffees. "Brought one for you. I figured you took yours black."

"Much appreciated." Selina takes it halfheartedly because in reality she prefers commercially made frappuccinos instead of regular coffee. Besides, regular coffee made her shit like no other. She doesn't blame him for thinking that way; after all, she does make that sort of impression.

"What are you looking at?"

She exhales and says, "Nothing in particular. Just some stuff on the sewers."

Rick sits down on the chair nearest to her, all the while waving at the officers in the back. Selina's been noticing how everyone is very friendly to Rick; he's the popular boy at MCU. "Did Gordon tell you he's having trouble getting some of the men to go underground?" He takes a sip from his mug and watches the computer screen.

"What do you mean?"

"Almost the entire police force was trapped for five months. You think they want to head back?" he says quietly.

She shrugs. "The possibility of being trapped underground once more is unlikely." Selina moves the computer mouse and stares at an aerial view of the city and its sewers. "And the possibility of having panic attacks inside the sewers is nonexistent."

The two other police officers exit the room, leaving Selina all by herself with Rick. "Could you be a little more heartless?"

"If they want to protect their city from unsupervised criminals, they need to buck up and serve," Selina deadpans. Leaning back against the chair, she smirks at Rick and asks, "Do you plan on passing out once we're underground?"

He scoffs. "No. I'll have my big boy pants on by the time we get there." Selina smiles wide and returns back to the computer. She can see Rick smile through her peripheral vision, but it soon goes away. "I'm serious. What if it's another bloodbath?"

Rolling her eyes Selina responds, "It won't." But she stares at him right in the eye, and silently promises him it really won't happen. Because when Selina's around, things always have a way of working out.

Rick is still for another couple of minutes while Selina continues looking at the computer. Eventually, he takes one loud sip from his mug, sets it on the table and questions, "Do you not like coffee?"

She turns to him. "No, I do." He raises an eyebrow. "I . . . just need more sugar and milk. And ice. And whip cream," Selina adds in afterthought.

"Oh, Jesus. You're one of those Starbucks snobs aren't you?"

"No," she replies coolly as if she didn't just admit she preferred frappuccinos than regular coffee. Rick glares at Selina intensely before she gives in. "Fine. Yes. So what?"

"I'll tell you something: you can't be a cop and _not_ drink straight coffee."

"Who said I was one?"

* * *

_"I believe I was promised something. Where is it?"_

_ Miranda Tate is beautiful. But her hair is done in an overused retro fashion, so it automatically destroys her entire outfit. And she has a protruding pimple, so her smooth, unblemished face appears out of balance. Oh, and Miranda's accent is hideous. _

_ Selina sighs and retrieves a slip of paper from a Chanel clutch she stole a few months back. An old lady with a very pretty diamond necklace walks past the two on the balcony; neither one of them are fazed. They know how to act. She places it on the marble railing and slides it over to Miranda. Dubiously, she takes it and reads what's inside. _

"_I was told you were a competent thief. Why is there an address written on here?" Miranda's anger is slowly reaching the surface._

_ "It's too dangerous to bring it in Gotham. And your partner refuses to let me get it myself, so instead I have someone holding it for me." Selina cocks her head to the side. _

_ Miranda watches Selina carefully as the orchestra plays whatever old-time song they're playing. In truth, she has every reason to be suspicious of Selina because she's lying. Selina doesn't have a guy holding the state of the art money laundering system Miranda asked for. Times are rough; she can't buy her freedom but she _can_ buy some time. And hopefully Miranda and Bane fall for her stupid trick. She's counting on some unknown force to help her escape Gotham. Selina holds still and does not waver. Selling her story is the only way she can stay alive. _

_ Finally, Miranda nods and her bodyguard takes the paper from her slim hands. "You're free to mingle and steal from whoever you like," she offers. Through a series of movements, Selina notices how Miranda's eyes are no longer cold and hard, but they emit warmth and playfulness. Her shoulders relax a little as well. Selina can spot a brilliant – yet conniving – actress a mile away. _

_ She grits her teeth. She hates wealthy brats like Miranda and John Dagget getting in with the bad guys for money. "I was under the impression I'm given free reign no matter where I go." _

_ "With _my_ permission, of course," Miranda stresses. Arrogantly, she smiles and says, "Don't forget that, Miss Kyle. It is my party after all." _

_ Selina watches Miranda go downstairs and the partygoers coo at her. "Not for long," Selina whispers, and swiftly descends the stairs to chat with her target. _

_ But she was oh so wrong._

* * *

"I thought you forgot about me already!"

Ray bounces on over to Selina, dodging Army men and tools as he walks toward her. His business is booming; literally every government vehicle is situated at Ray's garage. "I assumed you were too busy for idle chat time."

"When you're here I always have time." Ray clasps a reassuring hand on her shoulder and ignores her slight flinch. "So. What can I do for you?"

Selina smiles and moves away from him, smoothing out her shirt. "The reason for my visit . . ." Ray lifts an eyebrow and she breaks. "I just wanted to talk to you, that's all." Surprisingly, it's the truth. There are very few people Selina enjoys speaking with, and Ray is one of them.

"Well shit, Selina. All you have to do is drop by time to time," he responds. Ray grins and says, "Come on back, I got something to show you."

She acquiesces and he leads her into his office, and promptly locks the door. Gesturing for Selina to sit on the chair, Ray heads on over to a small filing cabinet and explains, "I've digging around for that job of yours."

"Really?"

"Uh huh." He produces a thick black binder and loudly sets it on his desk. Once he arranges himself on his chair, Ray opens the binder and smiles deviously. "You asked me to keep a lookout for any funny business going on around Gotham. And guess what? I got something for you."

Eagerly, Selina leans forward and examines the papers. They're balance sheets from ten years ago . . . and filled with transactions of Falcone's drug money. Each outflow is named after its location point, something she finds incredibly foolish. Whoever ran the books wasn't a smart man.

"This isn't important to me, Ray."

He smirks knowingly and says, "I always thought you were the intelligent one, but damn, you really must be stupid." Selina frowns. Sighing, Ray continues. "David Moretti is the third cousin of Falcone. A real fucking idiot.

"Anyway, when Falcone went down we all know Saul Maroni became the man in charge. And of course, when Dent went caput every organized crime flew away like fairy dust." He flips the pages dramatically and focuses on Selina. "But they're all related. And every piece of information needed to keep their business afloat is in these books. They haven't changed a single bit of their trade history in the past ten years."

She relaxes in her chair. "You're telling me I could find David Moretti in one of his little hangouts and have him arrested like that."

"Yeah."

"Ray, it doesn't make sense." He begins to protest before Selina cuts him off. "Of course they haven't changed their trade history, because Falcone went insane and Maroni died. David was in Blackgate –"

"No he wasn't."

Selina's pulled up short. "I thought GCPD caught him as well."

"Hell no. Remember how I said he's an idiot? GCPD would have better luck getting a dog to do simple math than that shithead. He was worth nothing to them."

Selina cranes her neck to the side and takes a deep breath. "If he's that much of an idiot, what makes you think he's able to run a drug operation?"

Chuckling, Ray replies, "You asked me to be on the lookout and I heard a few things. Right now, he's the only person who could _remotely_ operate an organization as big as it was ten years ago."

Selina digests all of it. If what Ray is saying rings true, then she could be at every single drop-off point and be there to get any sort of information, including that of Crane and the Joker. In truth, this information is actually _very_ helpful. "I don't say this very often, but thank you Ray."

"Eh," he begins and waves Selina off, "I've had these files for almost twelve years in my own personal GCDP war room." Ray throws a pen lying on his desk to the side and adds, "Being Gotham's whistleblower has its rewards." She starts to hand the files to Ray before he pushes it back to her. "Keep it. I've got the original hidden somewhere safe."

She nods and begins turning the pages in Ray's secret binder. Instantly, she recognizes some of the places – strip clubs around Old Town and the docks. _Finally_, after three months Selina has something to really kick start her investigation.

And maybe she can get a little more help, too.

* * *

His back hurts massively. He visited St. Swithins for a better part of his day, helping the kids clean up and start living new lives. Jimmy constantly talks about Batman, for which Blake finds frustrating. He can't stand anyone talking about him. They don't deserve to open their mouths and utter his name.

It's dark inside his apartment but . . .

Someone's here.

"Hello, Rookie."

Blake jumps and clumsily attempts to take out his gun tucked in his back. He can't see a single thing right now. His heart beats in an unnatural rhythm, and before Blake knows it his gun is ripped away from his hands and the living room lamp is turned on. His throat is oddly parched and he swallows thickly, watching Selina Kyle's smirk grow wider and wider every second as she gets comfortable on his sofa bed.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He's absolutely livid.

Selina throws his gun to the side and says, "Relax. I figured we should have a quick chat." Her lips are coated in red lipstick but she's not wearing her suit, although she's decked out in black gear. She crosses her long legs and tilts her head to the side.

Sure enough, Blake's breathing and heart rate calms down, but he's suspicious and doesn't trust Selina. And he needs to remind himself and ask Selina where she got his address from. "What do you want?"

"I got a job for you."

Blake's ears perk up. "Does it entail breaking into your apartment and scaring the shit out of you too?"

"You wish," she responds tartly. Blake takes a quick moment and searches his apartment, finding nothing out of place. She probably stole something. She had to.

"What is it?"

Selina takes a deep breath and casually takes a slip of paper out of her pocket. "In here is an address. I want you to have a stakeout. Watch everything and anything." She sets it on the side table and adds, "When I think it's appropriate I'll meet you, and you'll tell me everything you see."

Blake scoffs, insulted and annoyed. "So what, I'm your little errand boy now?"

"Yes, you are," Selina states. "Until then you do everything I say."

"What makes you think I'm going to follow your orders?" He leans against the wall and sizes Selina up. As of now he cannot stand her.

Something changes in her. Her shoulders get stiff and her arm reaches for the gun. Selina points it at Blake and coldly says, "Watch it. No questions asked." Reluctantly, he nods his agreement and Selina puts the gun back down.

"You watch it, and you'll get rewarded for your hard work."

He sighs. "What am I supposed to look for?"

Her cold demeanor breaks when Selina rolls her eyes and makes a rude noise. "I told you to look for _anything_ and _everything_. It's not that hard," she stresses as if she's talking to a fifth grader.

Blake can't help it, but he finally nods once more in agreement. Honestly, he's hit so many dead ends he doesn't know what to do. Perhaps Selina's visit was a blessing in disguise. "Promise me one thing."

"That I can't do, Rookie."

Ignoring her response, he groans and pleads, "_Stop_ calling me that. It's not my name and I'm not a rookie anymore."

Selina lifts her head in the air, her eyes twinkling mischievously and sneers. "Have a good night . . . Rookie."

He hates her.

* * *

_"I told you it would be nearly difficult for me to get that. Not to mention, you wouldn't let me leave Gotham to retrieve it myself."_

_ "With good reason."_

_ Selina tries desperately to even out her breathing but with no avail. Tonight is the night she's going to die. Tonight all of her efforts to stay alive and be one step ahead will fail. Quietly, she says, "I didn't get it. But I'm not sorry." _

_ "Ah, but you should be," Bane hisses. The waterfall continues to tumble down, and the incessant drilling rings inside her ears. Plenty of Bane's men are surrounding Selina, and the only escape route she can come up with might be suicide. _

_ One by one, Bane takes a menacing step headed for Selina. For the first time in a long time, she panics. Her mind scrambles for something – anything – to keep Bane on his leash, but as he nears her and his knuckles whiten, she's about ready to give up._

_ "Wait! I can get you the Batman!" _

_ Halting midway, Bane peers at her. "Impossible." _

_ "N-no, it's not," Selina stammers. "He wants to meet you," she rushes out. "A friend of his asked me to take him here." She can see Bane's about to say something, but quickly she adds, "I bring Batman to you, and you leave me alone. That's all I ask." _

_ There's too much noise but even greater silence. Selina can see that his men are surprised at this piece of information. However, Bane continues to stay still with his hands wrapped around the lapels of his jacket. Sweat starts to form on her upper lip and her palms are positively drenched. Her entire soul is drenched in sin and fear. _

_ "Bring him to me." _

_ And she does without a single care in the world. _


End file.
